Sherlock, John, and the Doctor
by HelenaHermione
Summary: When Mycroft contacts Sherlock and John to investigate an alien known as the Doctor, it's the chance of a lifetime for them to discover strange new worlds, explore the past, and connect. As for the Doctor, he gets more than he bargained for. (Series/Season 1 for both shows, will progress. Johnlock, Doctor/Rose, other than that, I don't know. Surprises/canon change in store.)
1. The Blue Box

**Ten years ago…**

The blue box had crash-landed in the yard of his family estate. He approached the box cautiously, surrounded on either side by guards, and mentally noted the dimensions and identified the box as a police call box from the 1950s, although with the way it had crash-landed here like some sort of aircraft, he was willing to bet that it wasn't an ordinary police call box.

The blue box's door opened and he halted, along with his guards, aiming their guns at the box and the occupant inside. "Hello?" He called out in his best sympathetic voice. "Are you hurt? Can we get you some help?"

There was a pause as they waited for answer and then he heard a laugh, a sinister, cunning laugh that intrigued and thrilled him. "I'm fine, just fine. Never better, in fact. It's the best I've felt in years, except for…well, I can't help that for now."

"Stand down, gentlemen, just relax." He ordered, turning to his guards before he slowly approached the box's doorway. "My name is Jim. James Moriarty, in fact." He said as he peered through the box's opening and gasped. "What's yours?" He managed to say, stunned and excited by what he saw inside. This was going to provide him with a load of opportunities, he could already tell.

The man with the maniacal laugh peered out of the opening and studied him intently. "Well, Jim, my name is the Master and I can tell we are already going to be the best of friends."

"The best of friends, of course." James slowly nodded, eying the Master as well. "The 'You help me and I help you' type of friends?"

"Precisely." The Master nodded.

"I like the sound of that." James said before they laughed together and then coughed, feeling slightly awkward together in that moment.

"Guards," James snapped his fingers and the guards drew to attention. "Help the Master gather his box together and take it up to the manor. We're going to have a load of work to do to get this thing in working order again. I assume it is broken?" He asked the Master.

"Yes, unfortunately, the type of parts and technology that I need to patch this thing up don't exist yet or will never exist, depending." The Master sighed.

"Hmm, a curious thing." James said before he shrugged. "Well, can't be helped, I suppose. We shall have to make do and find the best replacements possible or make our own." James turned to the guard heading back to the manor and told him, "Have some scientists ready on standby as soon as possible. We may need some assistance."

"Is this your place?" The Master asked, staring up at the manor.

"It is mine, insofar as it belongs to my family." James said before he asked, "Is that your box?"

"This old ratty thing? Yes and no." The Master said, turning to James. "It is mine now. Your place, can it be mine as well?"

"We shall share it, just like we share this box, for as long as you like." James said. "Is that a deal?"

The Master hesitated, glancing back and forth between James and the guard standing off to the side before he said, "Deal."

"Perfect." James smiled. "Just perfect."

**Present day(ish)…**

"A Henriks department store just blew up, a few blocks away from Trafalgar Square." Anthea told Mycroft, typing on her phone. Mycroft frowned and looked up from the newspaper he was just reading, out of boredom, to ensure that the certified stories and facts were straight and on topic, and to smirk at how wrong they got it half the time. "Police and emergency services are already on their way there." She told him.

"Henriks?" Mycroft grimaced. "One of those urbane teen outfitters, I suppose, but it doesn't make any sense." He closed and folded up the newspaper. "Why would anyone want to blow up such a place, much less shop there, unless they really hated clothes?"

"A statement of some sort that London isn't secure?" Anthea remarked.

"Perhaps, though it is an oblique one, aside from location. Get me CCTV footage of the surrounding area, before and after." Mycroft said, standing up and walking over to the bank of monitors set up against one wall. One of his personnel obeyed his order, switching all of the monitors to the CCTV cameras in that general vicinity, and rewound the footage to an hour or two before the incident.

Anthea joined them to peruse and examine the footage as it played out at double speed. "Camera 442981, stop at the mark." Anthea called out and the personnel member did at the 30 minute mark before the explosion. "Look here, sir." She called to Mycroft.

He came over and, after a quick glance, said, "There is a gentleman in a leather jacket, jumper, and dark trousers running towards the department store. The terrorist?"

"Look to the shadows." Anthea told Mycroft before she told the personnel member, "Play it back a couple of minutes and then restart it at regular speed."

Mycroft watched and then his eyes widened before he smiled. "Good for you, Anthea, you've spotted a Doctor. The Doctor, I should say, though he does look a bit different from what we're used to. One of his latest incarnations, I imagine." Mycroft frowned to himself. "What is he doing here and why did he blow up a store? Keep playing the footage here, I want to know when he comes back to the TARDIS and if anyone is accompanying him." He told the personnel member.

"He usually does have some sort of companion with him, doesn't he?" Anthea asked.

"Yes, the ones we're used to usually do, however, this Doctor appears to be traveling alone. No one came out with him, did they?" Anthea shook her head and Mycroft continued, "Precisely my point. This Doctor is alone and different from all the rest. He could be dangerous and unpredictable to a certain degree, even with a companion to help him, but without one, he is worse than my brother."

Anthea grimaced and then asked, "Your brother does have a companion now, though, Dr. John Watson? How is that going?"

Mycroft nodded. "Yes, that's right, Dr. John Watson seems like a respectable, responsible, able-bodied man who is capable of keeping up with my brother and keeping him in check to a certain degree, though he can't always control or follow my brother's actions. They seem to be getting along together now, as best as they can considering my brother's temperament and character and John's condition. I give it a few more weeks before it comes crashing down."

"That's what you said last month." Anthea said. "You still owe me 30 pounds."

"I'll pay you later." Mycroft added, rolling his eyes before he paused. "Roll back the footage a couple of minutes." He told the personnel member.

The person complied, and then Mycroft and Anthea watched as a blond teenage girl, holding some sort of rubber or plastic arm, raced down the sidewalk and across the street from the direction of Henriks' department store, looking harried and nervous as she kept glancing about. She paused and looked back at the department store, towards its roof, just before it exploded. She then raced off, past the TARDIS without seeing it, though.

"She saw something." Mycroft said. "She was in the department store. And I bet you another 30 pounds that she met the Doctor. I need a name, facts, and details concerning this young woman and then I need her interviewed and followed for at least two more weeks to be certain."

"Why?" Anthea asked, turning to Mycroft. "What's your concern with her?"

"The Doctor might be concerned with her if he helped her and pushed her out of the store before it exploded." Mycroft said. "He might even be concerned enough to ask her to travel along with him. Now who can we trust-" Mycroft hesitated, glancing at Anthea before he sighed. "Get Sherlock on the phone already and get me all of the files on the Doctor that we've got. I need to update Sherlock on the situation here so that he can appraise and examine it to the best of his abilities. Try to get him interested in it." Mycroft muttered, shaking his head.

**An hour later…**

"Oh, isn't it terrible?" Mrs. Hudson said, shaking her head as she watched the department store burn on the television. "Right here in the heart of London! Who could have done such a thing?"

"I'm sure it'll be fine, Mrs. Hudson." John said, glancing at his landlady. It might have been a little odd that she came up here to share this experience with her tenants, but then again, she was a motherly type of person, who needed some comfort as well. "The department store was closed, after all, the staff had already left. Whoever blew it up did so with almost no casualties involved."

"There probably will be some missing or suspected personnel who might have blown up the store, or might have even been caught in there." Sherlock added from where he sulked in his armchair, watching the television with a blank expression. "You can't say there are absolutely no casualties at this rate."

"Sherlock, please don't upset Mrs. Hudson." Watson hissed at him before his phone rang. Curious, he picked it up and frowned. "Mycroft is calling me. Sherlock, what did you do with your phone?"

"I threw it in the trash as soon as I heard about this explosion." Sherlock said. "I knew he would try contacting me to—John, no!" Sherlock cried, but it was already too late as John had answered.

"Hello?" John said, Sherlock sulking even further as John listened. "Yes, he's here, and no, he doesn't want to speak to you at the moment."

"Tell him it's obviously a terrorist plot and that's his job, not mine." Sherlock said. "If he didn't want to deal with terrorists, then he shouldn't have gotten into politics in the first place."

"Sherlock, be nice." Mrs. Hudson hissed at him. "You should help him. He's your brother, after all, and it's for an important cause."

"I wish he weren't. He's my nemesis!" Sherlock said.

"He-" John frowned as he listened and then turned to Sherlock. "Mycroft says it's not a terrorist plot and it involves…an extraterrestrial alien called the Doctor."

"What?" Sherlock sat up, aghast. "What kind of idiot does he think I am?"

"Alien?" Mrs. Hudson gasped. "Oh my god, it's finally happened! There really are aliens!"

"He says to check your laptop, all of the information has been sent to you." John added. "And we're supposed to also check up on a Rose Tyler at the Powell Estate. She worked at Henriks. Is that it?" John asked Mycroft, listening to him for a minute more with wide eyes, and then nodded. "No problem. Okay then, good-bye." John hung up.

"What was that about?" Sherlock eyed John.

"Nothing." John shook his head, not wanting to tell Sherlock what his brother had just said. It was quite a nice compliment, though.

Sherlock sighed, glancing at the TV again and coverage on the Henriks explpsion. "There's nothing on here of any real value. It's probably one big joke, but I suppose I shall still check out what my brother just sent." Sherlock stood up and headed towards his bedroom, pausing to turn back to John. "Just don't volunteer my services to him again without my say-so, okay?"

"Okay, then, good night, Sherlock." John said, nodding.

"Good night, John." Sherlock said, closing the door.

Mrs. Hudson shook her head. "Aren't you two going to bed together?"

"We're not a couple!" John groaned to himself. He thought he heard a stifled laugh from the direction of Sherlock's room, but ignored it. "Good night, Mrs. Hudson." He added.

"Good night, John." Mrs. Hudson said, looking bemused and amused as she slowly extracted herself from the couch and left the flat.

A few minutes later, as John was still watching TV, bored and tired, but not yet exhausted enough to go to sleep himself, he heard several expletives followed by a couple of shouts coming from the direction of Sherlock's closed bedroom. John hesitated, wondering what was bothering him or exciting him so much before Sherlock's door opened. John turned about and stared in horror and fascination at the crazed expression on Sherlock's face.

"The alien is real." Sherlock panted. "The Doctor is real. Come check it out." He waved him over.

"Really?" John asked, leaping over the couch and racing over to see what Sherlock was talking about. Sherlock yammered about a mile a minute as John read the files and even saw some footage taken from organizations like UNIT and Torchwood over several decades. "Oh my god," John said at one piece of footage in particular, which examined the size and dimensions of a large blue box inside a UNIT lab and then went inside the box, revealing a large, alien-looking room totally different from its surroundings. "But that's completely absurd, impossible." John said, leaning in further as the camera went deeper and deeper into the 'TARDIS'. "Is that a swimming pool?" John asked at one point.

"I would like to meet this alien, this Doctor." Sherlock said, examining another file on Rose Tyler. "And she just might be the ticket to him." Sherlock smiled. "We're going to the Powell Estate, first thing in the morning."

"Count me in." John nodded. "I would like to take a look at this thing myself."


	2. Harmless

The alarm rang that morning, waking Rose, and she was briefly disconcerted enough to think that she should get up, get dressed, and ready for work. But then her mother shouted at her, reminding her that she didn't have a job anymore because it all burned down, thanks to that mysterious Doctor fellow and those plastic men, Rose mentally added. Rose silently thanked the Doctor for a moment in that she didn't have to work at Henriks' anymore, a snotty, ritzy, and too fabulous of a place (and too expensive for her) that she hadn't been able to stand and only worked at because it was one of the few decent jobs that she could get with her education and lack of experience.

But now she didn't have a job anymore, no way of earning a decent wage to help support herself and her mother, and she wasn't better off than she was before in terms of work experience to boost up her resume. She and her mother were facing a serious lack of funds right now and it wasn't likely that she would immediately find a job to help support them. Bare cupboards wasn't going to be as much of an issue as the fact that they would have to rely on others now, including Mickey and maybe one of her Mum's boyfriends, to help them out if they got into a tight spot, like if the washing machine broke and they couldn't afford a repairman.

She hated the thought of that. She often wished that she and her mum were independent and well-off enough that they could afford to take care of themselves without relying on others for help. She sighed to herself, lying in bed alone now with nothing to do, and wished the day would end right here with nothing to occupy her time, except for TV, reading, and boredom. But she got up, got dressed, and listened to her mum blabber on about getting a job at the butcher's and seeking compensation. It never ended.

There was a knock on the door and she frowned to herself, wondering who that could be as she got up and answered the door to two blokes, one a tall, lanky sort of fellow with dark, curly hair and the other a shorter, homely sort of fellow, maybe about her height or smaller, with blond, short hair. The short fellow had a laptop bag slung across his shoulders. "Hello, Miss. Rose Tyler?" The tall fellow said. "We're with Scotland Yard, and we wish to speak to you about the Doctor you met last night at Henriks' before it blew up. May we come in?" He smiled in a cold way.

Rose gaped at them, shocked. How did they know? Who was this Doctor person that Scotland Yard was looking for him? A criminal, probably, if he wasn't a terrorist. "I can't really say much about him." She said, nervous as she glanced down. "I only met him once last night. He sort of saved my life, or at least got me out of there before it exploded." She frowned. "It was weird. There were plastic mannequins, or people dressed up as plastic mannequins, and they were chasing after us."

"Plastic mannequins." The tall fellow slowly nodded and turned to the shorter fellow. "Wasn't there something in the UNIT files about plastic, the Automatons? Autons?" He corrected himself.

"Autons?" Rose incredulously repeated.

"I think so." The shorter man shrugged. "You know those files better than me."

"I don't know what this is all about, but he warned me that I shouldn't say much about him." Rose added. "He said it would mean death for anyone else."

"Of course. Miss. Tyler," The tall man inhaled, addressing her again, "We want to share with you some information regarding the Doctor, just in case you come across him again."

"Are you sure we should be doing this?" The shorter man hissed. "Mycroft will be very upset with us."

"Well, then he shouldn't have told us about this in the first place if he didn't want us to talk about it." The taller man hissed back.

"I think this is where the Secrets Act is supposed to come in here." The shorter man said.

"Shut up." The tall man muttered.

Rose blinked and said, "All right, come in." She didn't know what was going on here, she didn't exactly trust these guys either, but she waved them through into the flat, hoping to find out more about the mysterious stranger from last night.

"Excellent." The tall man said, entering with the shorter man following and shaking his head. What had she gotten herself into?

"Rose, who is that at the door?" Her mother called out.

"It's just some investigators with the inquiry." Rose told her as the tall fellow and the short fellow walked past her mum's bedroom. "They'll only be here ten minutes. Can you leave us alone for a bit?"

"It might be an hour." The tall fellow added before he moved on.

"An hour? All right then," Rose's mum huffed, annoyed at being driven out of her own home by two men and her daughter, and then she caught sight of the shorter fellow. "Hello, there." She said, straightening up a bit and tossing her hair back to show off her breasts. "I'm alone with a strange man in my bedroom. Anything can happen." She winked.

Before the short man could open his mouth, the tall man shouted, "No! Come along, John." The short man shrugged and walked on by as Rose's mum huffed and continued to get ready to leave the flat. Rose smirked behind her hand.

"Does she flirt with every strange man that walks into her flat?" The short man remarked as he, Rose, and the tall man entered the living room.

"Sometimes she does. So what's this all about, then?" Rose murmured, settled down on the sofa. "And can I get some names from you two since you happen to know mine?"

"I'm Sherlock Holmes and this is my friend, Dr. John Watson." The tall fellow introduced themselves as the short fellow waved. Rose waved back at him, feeling awkward. "John, get out the laptop and the Doctor's files." Sherlock told his friend (boyfriend? No.) "We must apprise Miss. Tyler, full disclosure, on what we're dealing with here." As Watson did that, Sherlock steepled his fingers and turned to Miss. Tyler. "This is very difficult to explain, but we shall try…"

About half an hour later, with Rose's mum already gone on some errands or to visit a boyfriend, Rose shook her head with everything that she had just read, heard, and seen about the Doctor. "No, I don't believe you." She said, facing Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson. "This is all just fake, obviously. It can't be real. Aliens do not exist. The Doctor can't be alien."

"I was just as much a skeptic as you are not more than 24 hours ago," Sherlock Holmes said. "When there was very little scientific evidence for it as far as I knew of. But now that I have seen all of this information, which came from the highest civil authority in the land and from these respected, renowned agencies, even I believe."

"And it's very hard to get him to believe anything. Trust me, I know." John said.

Rose scoffed. "He would believe anything, I bet."

"It might sound outlandish, something only the feeble-minded would accept, but this level of scientific, government detail cannot be denied or fabricated from nothing." Sherlock said. "The Doctor is real, an alien Time Lord, and you have had contact with him. We are interested in finding out more about him and what he is doing here."

"Maybe he's dealing with the plastic Autons?" John asked and shrugged. "That's the only logical thing I can think of right now."

Rose scoffed and muttered, "Autons, what ridiculous nonsense."

"Excellent point, John, but there's got to be more to it than meets the eye." Sherlock frowned to himself. "I can't help but wonder where he has been for these past few years. He has been missing, absent, off of UNIT's and Torchwood's radar for a long time now. Even for a Time Lord like him, who can travel through space and time, for nine years or more the Doctor has not been seen in any form anywhere."

"Space and time?" Rose frowned to herself. It sound too good to be true.

"In any form?" John asked, frowning to himself as he reached over to the laptop. "I could have sworn there were some scattered reports indicating the Doctor might have popped up here and there-"

"Rumors, fiction, unsubstantiated reports, irrelevant details that have no bearing on any important events." Sherlock insisted. "The Doctor is a ghost at this point, a mere shadow of his former self. We're trying to draw him out of the shadows and figure out what has happened to him, where or when he has been hiding."

Rose cleared her throat, starting to get worried by the fact that there were two strange men ranting and raving about aliens and science fiction stuff with her alone in the flat. And she had almost started to believe them. Why did her mother have to go off and leave her here? She felt vulnerable at this point. Then she heard the cat flap moving in the distance and, wondering if a stray had gotten in, she went off to check it out as John and Sherlock continued arguing.

"We're getting nowhere." Sherlock said, shaking his head. "The Doctor isn't here anymore, he isn't going to show up-"

Suddenly, Sherlock and John heard a snatch of conversation coming from the front door between Rose and another man with a northern accent, and the two men poked their heads out to see the Doctor had arrived, according to Mycroft's surveillance footage. They were absolutely flabbergasted and excited by his appearance. They had heard about him only last night, but already he had been built up into a legend in their own minds. He knocked Rose on the head for some reason, Sherlock assumed it was to check if she was plastic if he was searching for the Autons, and then she pulled the Doctor inside.

"Listen, these two whacko men here think you're some kind of alien, which is ridiculous." Rose started to say, pointing at the strangers, not noticing how the Doctor stopped and gaped at them.

"Who are you two people?" The Doctor asked, darkening as John fidgeted under his harsh gaze. "Where did you come from, who do you work for?" Rose frowned to herself, wondering what was going on with this confrontation.

"We're with Scotland Yard." Sherlock said, not quailing as he assessed the Doctor's appearance and noted his emotional stress the harsh exterior. "My name is Sherlock Holmes, and this is my assistant, Dr. John Watson. It is…an honor to meet you, Doctor." Sherlock truly meant that.

"Assistant?" John muttered to himself.

"The pleasure isn't mine." The Doctor growled. "Can't you people leave me alone?" Sherlock felt slightly offended, but mollified himself.

"What are you doing here?" John asked the Doctor, intimidated but standing up for himself.

"Isn't it obvious?" Sherlock asked before the Doctor could answer 'It's none of your business'. "He's looking for the Autons or something like that, probably using his sonic screwdriver to scan for them."

Rose laughed, trying to relieve the tension. "Sonic screwdriver, see, this is the kind of ridiculous things these two have come up with."

"Yeah, sonic screwdriver, ridiculous." The Doctor said, trying to look nonchalant even though he felt offended by her ridicule. His sonic screwdriver was a useful device, a scientific tool he had used to save his life more than once. He stiffened and then asked Sherlock, "How did you two find out so much about me? Who else knows about this?"

"Well, if it isn't obvious," Sherlock started to explain the situation to the Doctor and Rose, both of them skeptic for different reasons, as John turned around, thinking he had heard or seen something dart behind the armchair. He extracted himself from the conversation, not really being noticed at this point, to check out what was behind there. Suddenly, a plastic arm leapt out from behind the armchair and attacked John, trying to choke and strangle him.

The Doctor, Rose, and then Sherlock looked up and round to see what was going on as Rose asked, "What is it with men and plastic arms?"

"John!" Sherlock shouted, darting into the room to try and wrench the plastic arm off of his friend, but then it flew around and attacked Sherlock instead.

"Sherlock!" John shouted, and tried to struggle with the plastic arm strangling Sherlock, both of them falling and crashing into the glass coffee table.

The Doctor and Rose stood off to the side, watching the scene in shock and horror, and then for some reason, the Doctor started laughing helplessly. Rose frowned and elbowed him sharply. "Ow! What you did you do that for?" The Doctor asked, rubbing the sore spot.

"They're in trouble! Can't you help them?" Rose asked, starting to realize that this was a serious situation, and maybe all of the alien stuff was true, with the way that plastic arm had spun round in midair.

The Doctor sighed and said, "All right," reaching into his coat pocket to remove—

"Is that your sonic screwdriver?" Rose said, laughing in spite of herself as she saw the small device.

"Hey, don't laugh! This is a real lifesaver here and I should know!" The Doctor insisted, waving the device, before he jumped into the fray and depowered the homicidal plastic arm. "See? Harmless." He said, tossing the arm back at Rose, who then hit him with it. "Ow! What was that for?" He asked her.

"For taking so long." Rose said, glancing down at her other two visitors, lying on the floor and gasping for breath, both of them bruised and scratched by the fall, glass, and strangulation with marks and nicks left behind. Not to mention the wreck of a coffee table. Her mother wasn't going to like this mess one bit. "They could have been killed." Rose said, realizing how dangerous this whole situation was.

"Clever observation." Sherlock managed to say. He had been through worse than this before, though he couldn't exactly remember when.

"It's what they deserve. This is why you don't go messing about in things you don't understand!" The Doctor shouted at them, further annoying Sherlock. "You could have been killed. Next time, stay well clear of me, you got that?"

"Got it." John muttered, feeling tired, beaten, and having just about enough of it.

"How dare you threaten them like this." Rose said, feeling offended.

"They threatened me." The Doctor told her. He truly did seem alien in that moment.

"Wait a minute here!" Sherlock shouted, standing up. "You can't just dismiss us like this, Doctor. We want to help you."

"Help him?" John asked, staring up at Sherlock. "When did this become about helping him? We wanted to learn more about him, but now we should be helping ourselves by getting out of here." John added.

"Help me? No, I've had enough of this. I'm getting out of here." The Doctor muttered, taking off.

"Hold on a minute, you can't just go swanning off like this!" Rose shouted at the Doctor, taking off after him.

"I'm not letting you leave either!" Sherlock shouted after the Doctor before he turned around to his friend still lying on the floor. "The game is afoot, John! Get up, we're leaving before he can get away from us!"

"Can't I just rest here for one minute more?" John asked.

"There is no time!" Sherlock shouted, leaving the flat.

"Isn't there always supposed to be time with a Time Lord?" John muttered to himself, but he got up and followed after them.


	3. Melodramatic

After John paused to fish out Sherlock's laptop from the wreckage of the coffee table, Sherlock and John hurried down the staircase, out into the alleyway, and then across the Powell Estate after the Doctor and Rose, hearing them arguing from afar until that arguing slowly turned into some light-hearted banter and conversation. Sherlock held himself and John back from disrupting their conversation, intrigued in spite of his wish to interrogate the Doctor himself to let it continue flowing and see how it progressed.

He wondered for a moment if Rose was attaching herself to the Doctor. The Doctor certainly didn't seem to mind having her there as he explained the situation to her. Perhaps there was the chance that this Doctor, who had been alone when he had showed up at Henriks without a companion by his side, wouldn't be so alone for much longer. He wanted to see how this relationship developed between a Doctor and his companion firsthand.

John, however, was starting to sporadically limp a little bit with the stress of the situation turning into a nightmare and then dully fading away into an ache as the stress, thrill, and adrenaline faded as well. Not to mention all of that walking. He was starting to get bored and agitated, wondering what they should be doing here. He wanted to keep up with the Doctor and Rose too, worried about the girl and interested in the alien, but he wondered if it was really worth all of this bother and aggravation to him and Sherlock.

There was the Doctor's threat, after all, that they could get themselves killed just by following after him and with what he and Sherlock had read, seen, and just now experienced, perhaps they should take that threat seriously. He wondered if they should leave, since they weren't even involving themselves with the Doctor and Rose, just following after them. He didn't see the point in it, even if Sherlock seemed distracted by it.

"Oh, what are you two doing now?" The Doctor asked, turning around to face Sherlock and John following after them like a pair of puppy dogs on the edge of the Powell Estate. "Go home, shoo, fly away, little ducklings."

"Little ducklings?" John asked, offended as he limped up towards them, having fallen behind a little bit. "Who does he think we are?"

"I happen to think of myself as a swan." Sherlock remarked.

"Or a whooping crane." The Doctor joked, and then noticed John's limp. "What's the matter with him?" He asked. "Shouldn't he be taking it easy?"

"Oh, the limp is psychosomatic, it's all in his head." Sherlock said, dismissive.

"Thanks for noticing." John muttered, rolling his eyes.

"The head's still a troubling place." The Doctor said. "You need to get that tended to."

"Tried therapy before, didn't exactly work." John said before pointing at Sherlock. "Running around with him, solving cases, seems to make it better and worse at the same time."

"Thank you, John, I think." Sherlock hesitated. "John's a veteran army doctor with PTSD and a shoulder injury from Afghanistan, much like you, Doctor, with your own war injuries and emotional distress. What are you hiding?" Sherlock asked the Doctor.

The Doctor stopped, feeling like he had been hit hard in the chest with two tonnes and his hearts were split with that fresh reminder. Who did this man, this human ape who thought he knew better, analyzing and seeing through the Doctor like this, yet not seeing him at all, think he was? John hissed, realizing how insensitive Sherlock was being at the Doctor's reaction. Not every soldier could recover from or even recognize their wounds.

"War injuries?" Rose murmured, now concerned about both John and the Doctor.

"It's fine enough." John said. "It fades." He said for both himself and the Doctor's benefit.

"Not always. Not entirely." The Doctor said, staring at the two men standing before him, really seeing them for the first time, the headstrong, self-denying, self-deprecating veteran and the arrogant, uncaring, dismissive genius, and saw two halves of himself. It was heart-wrenching. He asked, "Who are you?"

"Dr. John Watson here, and I am Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock said as John waved. "I'm a consulting detective with Scotland Yard, the only consulting detective in the world. John assists me."

"Is that the only thing he does?" Rose asked, amused as John blushed, though she was half-serious as she wondered if Sherlock only saw him as an assistant, not as a friend or something more.

"For now." Sherlock shrugged, not quite knowing what else to say. John bit his lip, not really wanting to say anything at the present moment.

"A detective named Sherlock Holmes and his army buddy Dr. John Watson…why does that sound so familiar to me?" The Doctor asked.

"Perhaps you've heard of us in the future?" John asked, optimistic. "I just started a blog about our adventures. We haven't had that many cases yet, but perhaps we will gain some notoriety."

"Adventures? Fame? A blog?" Sherlock groaned. "This will be the death of me."

"Who wouldn't want to be famous?" Rose asked.

"Me." The Doctor added, as Sherlock nodded in agreement.

"Don't be so melodramatic." John told Sherlock. "It's just fun, a hobby to pass away the time."

"You're the one who's melodramatic." Sherlock said. "The way you write, everyone expects me to fall over and weep, full of remorse. I'm not that way. You're the one who wrote my character that way! It's fictional misrepresentation!"

"Is there such a thing?" Rose asked.

"I've gotten it all of the time." The Doctor said. "And I know people who were misrepresented as well. Marie Antoinette wasn't so bad, you know." Rose's eyes widened at that.

"At least I'm not the one who's bored all the time and firing at the wall!" John shouted at Sherlock as the Doctor frowned. "You can't control your actions. If you can't call that melodramatic, I don't know what you can."

"Well, not all of us have the ability to hide our boredom and feign interest in the world, which you do all too well." Sherlock said.

"What do you mean?" John asked.

"You hide everything, John, even from yourself. I don't have that ability! I am a high-functioning sociopath, but still a sociopath and a genius! I know all too well what goes on in my mind and all around me." Sherlock said as Rose took a step back, away from him, and the Doctor sighed at both her reaction and Sherlock's words.

"Not everything, not always." John said. "You don't know half of what goes on around you when you see surface details and characteristic traits. You don't know half of what goes on in other people's hearts and minds."

"Bully for you, John." Rose remarked.

"Both of you are melodramatic." The Doctor added, rolling his eyes.

"And what about you, Doctor?" Sherlock asked. "Are you melodramatic?"

"Maybe I am and maybe I'm not. It just depends. I could be camp as well." The Doctor grinned as Rose laughed. "And Rose can be, too, I bet. How about you two? Can you be camp as well?" He asked the boys.

"We can be." John said as Sherlock glared at him.

"Great, perfect." The Doctor nodded. "Smashing, in fact. I think we can get along well."

"We can?" Both Sherlock and John asked, shocked, causing Rose and the Doctor to laugh.

Rose asked the Doctor who he was and he gave a speech about the turn of the earth and falling through space, grabbing Rose's hand before he let go of it, as Sherlock and John noticed the TARDIS in the distance behind the Doctor's shoulder. "Definitely melodramatic." Sherlock said as John nodded.

"Shut up." The Doctor muttered to them, walking off towards the TARDIS and shaking his head as Rose turned around and starting walking back home, not wanting to go and leave the Doctor, yet uncertain if she could travel with him. With everything the Doctor, Sherlock, and John had told her, she knew the Doctor wasn't normal, that he was an alien who went on all of these adventures, yet she didn't know if she could keep up with him.

"Come along, John." Sherlock said, heading after the Doctor when he refused to let him go, but John hesitated, looking after Rose, who seemed lost and alone. He felt bad for her.

"Shouldn't we follow after her?" John asked. "Mycroft did ask us to watch out for her and tail her." That was only half true, he knew, but it felt like the right thing to do.

"But the Doctor is leaving. Mycroft wanted us to find the Doctor." Sherlock insisted. "He's the most important one here. He might never be coming back." He added.

"No." John said, shaking his head and turning away to run after Rose. "You can go after the Doctor on your own."

"What? John-" Sherlock started to say, feeling betrayed and torn between the Doctor and John.

"I'm sorry!" John cried back, vanishing.

"Damn the man!" Sherlock shouted, sprinting after the Doctor instead. John would be fine on his own for now. Perhaps he might convince the Doctor to return sometime soon.

The Doctor had gotten the TARDIS door open and was heading inside when Sherlock pushed past him. "Oh no, not you! Get out!" The Doctor shouted, trying to stop Sherlock and haul him out of there, but Sherlock had pressed a button and the TARDIS started to dematerialize.

John winced when he heard that sound, but he continued following after Rose and caught up with her. "Hello, there." John said, smiling at her. "Mind if I join you for awhile?"

"Where's your friend?" Rose asked, looking around.

"He went with the Doctor." John told her.

"Oh. All right, I suppose you can tag along for a little while." Rose sighed and nodded. "I'm heading to my boyfriend's flat to get on his computer-"

"I've got one right here! A laptop, I mean, Sherlock's." John added, patting Sherlock's laptop bag.

"Can I use it to look up some more information on the Doctor?" Rose asked.

John nodded and they sat down in the empty field, booting up the laptop and researching the Doctor for a bit until the laptop's battery started to fade, but by then, they had gone through the files some more and found contact information for a man named Clive, a residential expert on him. "You've got a car we can use to go see him?" Rose asked John.

"No, and I'm low on funds for a cab all the way out to the suburbs." He told her.

"My boyfriend Mickey can help us." Rose said and so they set off with Mickey driving his yellow bug, occasionally throwing suspicious glances at John in the backseat, to see Clive.

Rose and John got out of the car, leaving Mickey behind, as they met Clive and went out to his shed. Rose gaped over the photographs and evidence of the Doctor's passage through time, but John got bored with the whole thing, especially when Clive didn't know much about the Doctor, just bits and pieces. John left early and headed back to the car, only to find Mickey was gone.

"Mickey?" John called, looking round for him as he rested his hand on a nearby trash can. "Where are you?" He muttered and tried to let go of the trash can, but couldn't. Before he knew it, he was swallowed up by it, and everything went dark.

Rose returned to the car, muttering about Clive being a nutter, as John and Mickey sat, stiff and plastic, inside the car. "I fancy a pizza." Rose said and both Auton John and Auton Mickey repeated the word.

* * *

"You're running away again, aren't you?" Sherlock asked the Doctor, not fully ready yet to look around and appreciate the TARDIS. "Abandoning us to the Nestene and Autons?"

"No, I'm not!" The Doctor cried. "I didn't intend to leave, not completely anyway! I came in here to get this arm analyzed and to look for the Nestene Consciousness frequency that's controlling it! You should have figured that out by now if you're some kind of great detective!" He wasn't lying completely.

"Oh." Sherlock said, realizing he might have made some big mistake in messing with the TARDIS, taking them away. "So you will be returning back there?"

"No, I'm tracking the signal to wherever it might take me. Might not even be the same time period at this rate." The Doctor said, taking the arm over to some kind of scanning device on the console. "Where's John? Shouldn't he have barged in here with you?" The Doctor asked, looking around.

"He stayed behind. He chose to go after Rose instead." Sherlock said, concerned about him.

"So you abandoned him?" The Doctor said, attaching the arm to the scanner.

"No, I did not!" Sherlock shouted. "He's not abandoned, he's free and independent. He can help himself. He made his own choice. It was the wrong one, but I will catch up with him again, unlike you, Doctor, who has chosen to abandon and stay away from people you once called your friends."

"It wasn't always my choice." The Doctor said, looking down as the scan began. "Sometimes it got harder and harder to catch up with them. So he's not joined at the hip with you?" The Doctor asked, looking up. "What is he, then? Your lover, friend, or partner?"

"Partner, maybe, friend, perhaps, lover? I'll get back to you on that." Sherlock said as the Doctor scoffed. "I met him just a month ago. He needed a flat, I had one that was too expensive for me to rent alone, and so we moved in together. He helped me out on a case, saved my life by shooting a cabbie coaxing me to poison myself-"

"John shot a cabbie coaxing you to poison yourself?" The Doctor asked, shocked.

"It was murder by competitive suicide, quite ingenious, really." Sherlock said. "The cabbie was smart enough to figure out your woes and weaknesses, scars deep enough to kill yourself over. He then challenged you at gunpoint to choose one of two pills, one of which was poison and the other wasn't, as he took the other pill. Whoever survived won. He murdered three others this way."

"Ingenious, I suppose, in a foul, murderous way." The Doctor frowned. "Did you really want to take the pill?"

"In the most desperate way to find out if I was right and he was wrong." Sherlock said.

"Hopeless." The Doctor shook his head, turning back to check on the progress of the scan. "So John saved and helped you in a way I don't approve of, by the way, no guns with me here. And he's been helping you ever since?"

Sherlock nodded. "We've worked on several cases together since, nothing like this, though. We're sort of desperate for more, Scotland Yard has given us very little and when my brother Mycroft told us-"

"Mycroft? Mycroft Holmes?" The Doctor gasped, staring at Sherlock. "You're his brother?"

"You've heard of him?" Sherlock asked, stunned.

"He is the British Government, of course I've heard of him." The Doctor rolled his eyes. "And I've got the British Government's brother in my TARDIS! Mycroft is after me, isn't he?" The Doctor asked. When Sherlock nodded, he groaned. "What a lousy, rotten day this has been! This was a mistake, getting messed up with you."

"It certainly hasn't been easy for me either." Sherlock said, pausing long enough to take in and inspect the TARDIS. "You've changed it completely. The war must have heavily damaged it. What sort of a war was it?"

"None of your business." The Doctor said and finally the scan was complete. The Doctor checked and groaned. "The signal isn't strong enough. This piece is dead, disconnected from the Nestene Consciousness when I deactivated it at Rose's flat, saving yours and John's miserable little lives. We need to find some more live pieces of plastic that the Nestene controls to track it down.

"Can you track those Autons down?" Sherlock asked.

"Working on it." The Doctor said, setting up a scan, and then grinned. "Couple of Autons right near here, hang on tight!" He cried, flipping a switch and the TARDIS rattled into life, Sherlock holding on as they materialized in an alleyway behind a fancy pizzeria. Sherlock and the Doctor rushed out of the TARDIS to capture a piece of living Autons.

"John's an Auton!" Sherlock shouted a few minutes later, trying to keep Auton John's plastic arm from strangling him while the Doctor had gotten hold of Mickey's head as the two of them entered the TARDIS. "Why is he made of plastic? He shouldn't be made of plastic!"

He was furious with the Doctor, with himself for leaving John behind, and with John for getting himself into this predicament. Sherlock had recognized right away that this John wasn't real, especially when he stretched out of shape to wrap himself around Sherlock. Sherlock and the Doctor had managed to dismember the Auton John and Mickey and with Rose in tow, had fled the pizzeria. Rose was still outside, though, panicking.

"Rose! Get in here!" Sherlock opened the TARDIS door and shouted at her.

"All right, all right, I'm coming," Rose said, fleeing into the TARDIS and then gasping as she finally glimpsed the full depth and wonder of its interior.

"Close the door!" The Doctor shouted back at Sherlock, while Rose remained stunned. "Yeah, sorry about that, it happens sometimes. Comes with the turf!" The Doctor shouted back at Sherlock, still furious with him and John for getting involved. The Time Lord plopped Mickey's head down on the console next to the scanner. He was slightly worried as well about what was happening here, if the Autons and the Nestene Consciousness were already claiming lives, and John was caught in the crossfire, but he didn't want to show his concern when that might worry everybody.

"Where is John? The real, live, breathing, human John? Is he still alive?" Sherlock asked, plopping John's arm down on the console next to the head as Rose started crying, thinking about Mickey and John dying.

"I don't know. Maybe." The Doctor said. "They might need the real, living people to maintain the copies, but once the copies are pointless-"

"Did we just sign their death warrants?" Sherlock asked.

"They're melting!" Rose pointed out. Sherlock and the Doctor panicked then, the Doctor trying to track down the signal as Sherlock asked if there was anything he could do to help pilot the TARDIS or preserve the heads.

"No!" The Doctor shouted as they materialized on the bank of the Thames. The Doctor complained at how close they had gotten.

"We traveled." Rose said, still marveling over the TARDIS.

"What are we looking for?" Sherlock asked, getting out and coming up to the Doctor. "Where might the Nestene be hiding? What sort of marks or clues, there must be something that can lead us to them!" And to John before he died.

"The signal is the only thing. It needs a transmitter to boost the signal. A great big whopping transmitter right in the middle of London!" The Doctor shouted.

"Got it." Sherlock said, and started running off. It took a bit for the Doctor and Rose to catch up with his thoughts and then with him, heading across Westminster Bridge towards the London Eye.

"Are you sure we're heading the right way?" Rose asked. "What about the footbridge?"

"Underground complex for the waterworks along the Thames!" Sherlock shouted. "Perfect hiding place for the Nestene Consciousness and the Autons, runs right underneath the London Eye so they can connect their transmitter there. Westminster Bridge is closest to the nearest access point, the footbridge is too far."

"Fantastic!" The Doctor shouted, surprised by Sherlock's intelligence.

"I know." Sherlock said as they raced down the steps to the riverbank, opened up a waterworks shaft, and entered the complex. They still had to save John and Mickey, of course.


	4. Heaven and Hell

"Is there any way of destroying it?" Sherlock asked as he, the Doctor, and Rose spied the Nestene Consciousness.

"I've got some anti-plastic, but I'm not going to use it until I've given them a second chance." The Doctor said.

"Typical for you. I wouldn't even try." Sherlock muttered, but then he spotted John and Mickey down below, surrounded by Autons. He and Rose rushed down to them, while the Doctor continued on to confront the Nestene Consciousness alone.

"What happened, Sherlock? What the hell is going on here?" John shook his head, still a little dazed after having woken up a few minutes ago in a strange, dark place surrounded by plastic figures and a bubbling, roaring liquid vat of fire below. Not to mention feeling annoyed by the creeped-out, babbling, blubbering Mickey sitting next to him that Rose was currently trying to comfort.

"It's all right, John, you're safe." Sherlock said, kissing him on the forehead, stunning the others. "We'll get you out of here."

"I've died, haven't I?" John asked, confused by the hellish place and Sherlock's heavenly kiss. He wanted some more of that.

"No, John, you haven't and you won't." Sherlock insisted. "Come on, let's go see what type of trouble the Doctor has managed to get himself into."

He stood up, pulling John along with him, and pushed past the Autons, ignoring them while John managed to follow after him. The Doctor called out to the Nestene Consciousness using the Shadow Proclamation, which Sherlock briefly noted and considered asking the Doctor about later, if there was such a time since he might have need of invoking such a power if he traveled with the Time Lord. Sherlock and John joined the Doctor on the lower level platform, overlooking the Nestene Consciousness immediately below them, while Mickey and Rose remained on the level above, watching them.

John grimaced at the sight of the Nestene Consciousness, slightly sickened by its ghoulish appearance, while Sherlock was fascinated by his first sight of a truly alien intelligence beyond his comprehension. The Doctor might be an alien, but he was almost human in his characteristics and manners and could be comprehensible. Sherlock certainly understood him in part from what little he had read of UNIT's and Torchwood's profiles on him, and had deduced several more details about him upon meeting, such as his recent wartime experience.

But this thing was gorgeous and deadly at the same time, hardly human at all in its behavior and characteristics. He could not understand it, and he wanted to know more about these alien creatures. Yet the Doctor casually and even crudely spoke to the Nestene Consciousness, provoking and verbally attacking it with jokes and the truth of the situation. Sherlock was almost certain the Nestene Consciousness would not take these threats well. Better get the anti-plastic ready, Doctor, Sherlock thought to himself.

John shifted away from the Doctor, painting a target on his back, and glanced around, aware of the Autons circling round them. "Should we really be doing this right now? Shouldn't we be getting out of here?"

"I'm afraid it's too late, John. Things have already reached the breaking point. There's no turning back now." Sherlock whispered, taking note of where the Autons were positioned and preparing himself to fight them. "Use it now, Doctor." Sherlock urged.

"No." The Doctor briefly told him, knowing what Sherlock meant.

He admired and hated the Doctor at this point for putting them into this precarious position, but he did not blame the Time Lord so much when this was his usual behavior and means of attack—verbally confronting an opponent without an escape route until something came to him. Hopefully something would come to the Doctor about now, like the anti-plastic he had on hand. But the Autons seized the Doctor while he was distracted. Sherlock and John attempted to fight them off until their hands lowered, revealing ray guns. Sherlock and John surrendered at this point, while things had escalated between the Doctor and the Nestene Consciousness.

Both his anti-plastic vial and TARDIS had been discovered. Sherlock mentally cursed the Doctor for waiting too long to play his trump. The Doctor's voice choked up as he pleaded with the Nestene Consciousness, telling it that he was not to blame for what happened in the war. What was this war that had so plagued and affected the Doctor and the Nestene Consciousness, Sherlock mused, even face-to-face with an Auton gun. It had to be something of a cosmic nature if it affected multiple planets with the Doctor caught up in the middle of it all.

John simply wondered if he was about to die, squeezing his eyes shut as he prayed that it would be quick and pain-free. Sherlock should not be here with him, though. He wished that Sherlock could be spared. "Invasion of the plastic people. Death by plastic ray gun." John muttered, giggling to himself when there was nothing left for him to do.

"John, please shut up." Sherlock tried to think of a way out of this mess, but nothing came to him, just the thought of that anti-plastic—clutched in the hand of one of the Autons close to the edge of the platform above the vat. If only that thing would fall right in the middle of the Nestene Consciousness. That would surely destroy it. But he was not in the position to bump into the Auton, at least not yet.

At the moment…"Sir!" Anthea called out, running to Mycroft at MI6 headquarters. "There are multiple attacks taking place in the middle of London and the surrounding area, except they seem to involve plastic mannequins."

"Plastic mannequins? Are you sure?" Mycroft asked before checking out the CCTV display, which caused his ashen face to pale even more than usual at the sight of the massacre. "Plastic mannequins. It's just like in one of those UNIT documents on the Doctor…the Automatons, or Autons I believe they were called."

"They're coming this way." Anthea said, her ear pressed up to her mobile. "That's just a few blocks away from us."

"Get UNIT on the phone!" Mycroft ordered. "They must have some kind of attack plan in place for such an invasion, from the 70s or 80s, whenever. Something to destroy these bloody plastic mannequins!"

"What about Torchwood?" Anthea asked. "The attacks are spreading too far and too fast for UNIT alone to handle. We need more experienced, trained containment forces."

"They aren't ready to deal with this type of threat yet, are they?" Mycroft asked. Anthea shrugged and Mycroft continued, "Well, get in touch with them in any case, maybe they've got something on hand to ward them off. Tell Torchwood to patrol densely populated areas close to wherever these mannequins might be displayed and keep a low profile. Increase our security patrol here."

"Yes, sir," Anthea said, running off again to send out his orders.

"Sherlock, where are you?" Mycroft was worried that his brother might somehow be involved in this mess when he had sent out Sherlock to find out more about the Doctor sighting.

He never should have given Sherlock all of that information. It had just stoked his brother's brain and ego too much and excited him to the point of diving off into some strange, new adventure. But part of the reason why Mycroft had gotten Sherlock involved in the first place was because Sherlock was the only person he knew of who could handle and maybe even survive such dangerous encounters with the Doctor. He just hoped his brother had the doctor, Dr. John Watson to be precise, to keep him company and keep him sane.

Meanwhile, police and emergency services were flooded with calls from Queen Arcade and the surrounding area, with SWAT teams and London's finest, including New Scotland Yard, being sent there. Lestrade was among the first at the scene. "Cor blimey, what is going on here?" He muttered to himself, shaking his head at the sight of plastic mannequins lumbering about, firing at people. It was like a bloody warzone here. He hadn't believed the news about this plastic-faced mob, but now that he saw them in action, he knew that nothing would be normal again. Sherlock would probably get a kick out of it, though.

"What should we do here?" Sally Donovan asked as she and the rest of the force cowered behind their patrol cars.

"All right, we need to get civilians out of the area and under cover." Lestrade ordered Sally and any officer within hearing distance. "Guns are authorized. Take out any of these plastic-faced, armed assailants when possible, but make sure to aim and fire if it's clear. The army should be coming soon, hopefully, to deal with this mess. We'll be holding them off until help arrives." With that, Lestrade emerged and started firing at the mannequins, followed by Donovan and the rest of the force. The mannequins were distracted enough by the armed response that they started turning away from helpless victims to attacking the police.

Other people across London, like Mrs. Hudson and Molly Hooper, remained glued to their TV sets and news reports, afraid to come out of hiding and face the terror on the streets. But just outside of London's metropolitan area, in a palatial manor on a country estate, two figures gleefully watched the action on the screen.

"What did I tell you?" The Master laughed. "Plastic makes it possible. Plastic is the future of humanity. The Autons will win!"

"Plastic is dull, boring, and clichéd, much like your wife Lucy." Moriarty muttered. "I still say we should have stuck with the Slitheen. They're already in place, you know, awaiting our final orders, ready to strike."

"Oh, you just like the way they fart." The Master muttered, slumping back down in his seat, causing Moriarty to laugh.

"I can't help it. It's so amusing that out of all the bodily functions available to them from such a wide arrange of features, the only way they can compress and expel so much of that pressure is to fart." Moriarty laughed again before he sighed. "Imagine such great hunters farting all of the time! Plus, I liked their plan." He grew more serious. "It seems to be an elaborate ruse, yet it's more fun that way. And I can't help thinking of that nice, tidy sum of intergalactic money we were going to make from the sale of chunks of this burned out earth. Cinders and ash."

"We did get a finder's fee for bringing the Nestene Consciousness here to this planet, full of rich toxins and dioxides." The Master remarked. "That's worth something, is it not?"

"If you say so." Moriarty said in a sing-song voice, turning back to the screen. "I'm still waiting for the results."

Meanwhile, the Doctor called out to Rose and Mickey to leave, the invasion was about to start, but Rose took the time to answer a phone call—bugger it all, Sherlock thought to himself. Pointless, idiotic conversation when they were all about to die. Rose and Mickey fumbled with the TARDIS door when the stairs fell, but then Rose turned and faced the Doctor as a disembodied voice, possibly from the Consciousness called out, 'Time Lord', causing both Sherlock and John to shiver. John opened his eyes and watched alongside Sherlock as Rose and the Doctor stared at each other, riveted, and suddenly Rose raced away from the TARDIS, towards some chains hanging nearby on the upper level. Somehow, she had gotten hold of an axe to cut them loose.

"Oh, clever girl." Sherlock said to himself as she made a somewhat grandiose speech, grabbed the chain, and swung across like a female Tarzan.

She plowed into a long line of Autons, knocking them down and helping to free the Doctor, who shook off his captors. This distracted the Autons near Sherlock and John enough that Sherlock managed to knock into the Auton holding the anti-plastic vial, causing both to fall into the Nestene Consciousness. But Sherlock nearly fell in as well, overbalanced on the edge of the platform.

And as he was about to be swallowed up in the liquid fire of the alien intelligence screaming in agony, Sherlock comprehended it at last, for he felt the same way facing death and contemplating all that he had failed to achieve and do. No, there was so much more that could be done and seen, he had so much left to do! But John somehow managed to grab hold of the consulting detective, possibly by his coat, and pull him back from the edge, causing both of them to fall down backwards on the platform.

"That's enough of that, now." John managed to say as they both got up. "Can't lose you, too, can I?"

"No. Thank you, John." Sherlock said, gasping for breath and relieved to have his blogger back with him as Rose swung back and was caught by the Doctor with a smile. Everything started exploding around them then and they raced up to the TARDIS, where Mickey was waiting for them. Rose glanced back once, still smiling as she entered the TARDIS.

"Oh my god." Both John and Mickey said at that point, seeing the interior of the TARDIS for the first time (technically second time for John, although the video of the old TARDIS interior didn't really count) as it dematerialized from the exploding base.

All across London, and as far as the Nestene Consciousness signal had spread, the plastic mannequins started malfunctioning, and then ceased to function altogether, turning back into regular plastic figures. Mycroft checked the CCTV feed twice to make sure the cameras had not malfunctioned and then froze with the plastic malfeasance, but once he was certain everything was correct and seemingly back to normal, he told Anthea to call UNIT and Torchwood to rescind his orders. They weren't needed anymore, probably thanks to the Doctor and maybe his little brother Sherlock. Mother would be inordinately proud of him if she knew, Mycroft was certain with a roll of his eyes and a small smile.

Lestrade ordered his forces to cease firing when he and the others saw the plastic-faced assailants falling apart, truly revealing them to be made of nothing more than plastic, not human. "What the devil just happened here?" He asked, aghast. Most people were wondering the same question, although they still had to deal with the fallout of the attack, namely the dead and wounded. Molly Hooper was certain the morgue at St. Barts would be full when she got there tomorrow morning, and she shivered at the thought of all those helpless victims dying on London's streets. Who or what could have done such a thing?

At the palatial manor, Moriarty laughed even harder as the Master stared at the screen, horrified. "No, no, no, no! The Autons were supposed to win." The Master shouted. "It was all set up so perfectly. Everything should have gone right, for once in my lifetimes!"

"You can't make those Autons do anything right!" Moriarty cried. "You tried once before with them, I know that, back in the 70s. And they even tried to invade by themselves sometime before that, but they failed! They fail every single time they try to take control! You can't win when you're made of plastic!"

"You're wrong! They never failed, they were always defeated by the Doctor." The Master gasped as Moriarty froze, staring up at him in shock and awe. "He's here." The Master said. "The Doctor, he's here, he's come at last!"

"After all this time?" Moriarty said. "He's been gone for so long without any sign of him. Please tell me it's not a false alarm like last time!"

"It's the Doctor, I'm telling you! He's here, he's returned, and we shall crush him and Sherlock Holmes!" The Master and Moriarty laughed at that.

Inside the TARDIS, the Doctor rounded on Sherlock. "You did that on purpose, knocked the Auton and the anti-plastic into the vat."

"I did what I had to do." Sherlock admitted. "You weren't able to do that when the Autons had you. They were winning, you were losing, and if someone didn't do something, like me and Rose, then none of us would be standing here alive and the earth would practically be dead, taken over by plastic."

John, Rose, and Mickey winced at this painful reminder as they glanced around the TARDIS, still shocked and surprised by it all, yet taking it in. Mickey blubbered a little bit, though, certain that they were going to be destroyed and not quite aware that the TARDIS was moving away from the hellish den. He was still thinking that this was some sort of nightmare. John and Rose remained cool, calm, and collected. They were certain that they were safe enough here, especially with Sherlock and the Doctor present to take control of things.

"Is that all you can think about? Winning and losing? It's not all a game, you know, Sherlock." The Doctor said. John nodded to himself, agreeing with that sentiment, though Sherlock sometimes could not see that.

"I know, but sometimes the game is the only important thing that matters." Sherlock said. "Life and death can be a game sometimes and you were jeopardizing all of our lives on a gamble by offering the Autons a second chance. You knew the odds weren't even in your favor by bringing the anti-plastic with you. You were going to destroy them if you failed. I just did it for you."

"I know!" The Doctor shouted, staring at Sherlock as John whipped his head around, surprised by this turn of events. John hadn't quite understood everything that was going on back at the complex, having missed a whole bunch, but he understood that the Nestene and Autons had somehow been destroyed—yet he hadn't known it was by Sherlock's hands.

"I tried to give them a second chance." The Doctor muttered, still thinking of his failure as he turned away to the console. "People deserve a second chance. It's more than I got or deserved."

"Well sometimes, they don't take their second chances." Sherlock said. "You either have to force it on them or give up. I gave up for you so that you didn't have to." John frowned, slightly worried about his friend.

The Doctor paused and glanced askance at Sherlock. "Thanks, I think, but it shouldn't have been necessary."

"You're welcome. And you can really thank me by taking John and me with you on your travels." Sherlock added with a smile, turning away from the Doctor, who looked like he was going to have an apoplectic attack. John's eyes widened, not certain how he felt about that idea.

"What about that Nestene Consciousness?" John asked, looking up and interrupting before the Doctor could get too enraged. "How did it get down there? Who installed it in that vat? How did it get to this planet?"

"Well done, John, excellent questions. Doctor, do you have an answer for those?" Sherlock queried.

"I don't know." The Doctor said, frowning. "I don't know and now we'll never find out, thanks to you."

"Why didn't you notice Mickey and John were Autons?" Sherlock rounded on Rose now.

"What?" John's head popped up. "I was what?"

"I don't know! I hadn't met John before, I didn't notice-" Rose started to say.

"That even your own boyfriend was plastic?" Sherlock finished for her, smiling as she blushed and the Doctor laughed.

"You couldn't tell me from a fake replica of me?" Mickey gasped.

"I'm sorry, it didn't cross my mind that you could be." Rose said.

"You still should have known. Just how well do you know him?" Sherlock asked Rose.

"Not very well at all." She admitted.

"That's the truth, isn't it?" Mickey said.

"You knew I was plastic, right?" John asked Sherlock.

"Of course I knew, straightaway." Sherlock insisted. "The stretching didn't help."

"Thanks for that." John said, not certain how to take it as they materialized on the edge of the Powell Estate.

Mickey stumbled out of the TARDIS, shocked by the sudden movement and finding himself in a different place, not the blown-up complex, with Rose and the Doctor following after him, though the Doctor paused in the doorway. Sherlock stopped John from moving any farther as they stood by the console. "We need to stay in the TARDIS in order to travel with the Doctor and the only way we can do that is not to leave the TARDIS." Sherlock told John. "Or else the Doctor will force us out."

"Are you sure this is such a good idea, traveling with the Doctor?" John asked.

"Do you want to leave and give up on traveling with the Doctor?" Sherlock asked, uncertain about John's response. He certainly wanted to continue, but he didn't know how he would feel, not having John with him. It didn't seem right, somehow, if he went on alone with the Doctor and left John behind. He was torn between John and the Doctor at this point.

John hesitated, feeling pressured to stay, even though he knew how dangerous it was, because he and Sherlock sort of had enjoyed it and maybe the Doctor would be all right to travel with, once they got to know him some more. Plus, there was so much out there that he hadn't experienced, and he wanted to know more as well. "All right, we'll stay." John murmured and nodded.

"Excellent." Sherlock smiled, pleased, and even John smiled as well.

The Doctor, at this point, made an appeal to Rose to travel with him, but Sherlock and John were shocked at this point to hear Rose reject his offer. "I thought she liked him." John said. "He liked her, after all, he asked her."

"I did, too." Sherlock frowned to himself, wondering about that. There had to be something more there with Rose and the Doctor. She might be concerned about Mickey and her mum, but there had to be some reason why she was attracted to the Doctor in the first place to consider being with him. But what made her not want to go, besides her concerns and the danger?

At that point, the Doctor's emotional responses had shut down. He had closed the TARDIS doors, probably feeling heartbroken, dejected, and rejected, and walked back up to the console and started to dematerialize his ship, not even looking up at Sherlock and John. The two men remained silent for a moment, certain that the Doctor might lash out at them once they were gone, calling them irritating, pointless, and stupid when he felt so bad, and afraid that he might kick them out as soon as possible.

"Time travel." Sherlock suddenly said, realizing what was missing here.

"What was that?" The Doctor said, looking up at Sherlock in shock as if he didn't know the other man had existed and then withheld anger that he did.

"You didn't tell Rose about the time travel." Sherlock said. "You mentioned how it can go anywhere in space, but you forgot to mention time travel. I believe she might like that particular feature of the TARDIS most of all." John glanced between the Doctor and Sherlock, wondering what was going on here and what the detective had figured out.

"Are you serious?" The Doctor asked. "So if I went back there and told her-"

"She might come." Sherlock said. "She might."

"All right, I'll give it a go." The Doctor sighed, not certain if it would work, but he tried to act more cheerful as he rematerialized the TARDIS back where Rose and Mickey were, stuck his head out, and spoke up. Rose smiled, nodded at him, kissed Mickey good-bye and then raced for the TARDIS.

The Doctor stuck his head back in, overwhelmed and turned back to Sherlock with a large, genuine smile and said, "It worked!"

"Told you!" Sherlock laughed and turned to John, hugging him tightly, pleased with the way things had turned out as Rose entered the TARDIS and it dematerialized, leaving Mickey and the Powell Estate far behind them. Good riddance, Sherlock thought to himself, glad to be gone. Earth and the 21st century were gone, and they were heading out into the unknown. Sherlock couldn't wait to get there.

John felt his heart pounding. The adventure was just beginning, and they were going who knows where and who knows when with a mad, heartbroken, torn and shredded Time Lord at the controls. He felt like anything could happen, anything might, and that scared and thrilled him more than anything with Sherlock by his side. Anything could happen to them. They might become as broken and scarred as this mad, lost Time Lord, or they might lead the grandest, happiest adventure of theirs and any lifetimes. It was all just beginning for them.


	5. A Point

It took him a while, but Mickey finally managed to locate his car in front of a pizzeria he and Rose frequented, which plastic Mickey must have taken her to last night, and luckily, it had not been broken into. He managed to get in and looked around to see if everything was all right, at which point he spotted the laptop that Dr. John Watson must have left behind when he was taken by the plastic Autons.

Mickey frowned to himself, not knowing what to do with the stupid laptop except to check it out so that he could figure out where to return it to with the doctor gone with the Doctor. He drove his car home, brought the laptop inside his flat, and set to work. It was password-protected with pretty good software, Mickey was surprised the doctor had taken such a precaution, but he had learned enough about coding and hacking already to break into the laptop, at which point he discovered that it was not the doctor's laptop, but Sherlock Holmes's.

He found dozens of case files on murder investigations, which caused Mickey's eyes to bug out at the gross, yet intricate details that Sherlock recorded on all of these investigations with his deductions laid out in full detail. And on top of that, there were files upon files from Torchwood and UNIT all about the alien Doctor, which caused Mickey to cover up his mouth in shock as he realized the sort of trouble that Rose, Dr. Watson, and Sherlock Holmes had gotten into. He read through all of these files, and then checked out everything he could on Sherlock Holmes's laptop, including emails, website, lab reports, police reports and special hacker and coder software, the last really causing Mickey to smile as he felt like he could break into any computer in the world using this stuff. He wanted to find out everything he possibly could about Sherlock Holmes and the Doctor at this point.

Suddenly, Mickey heard a pounding on his front door, which he answered to find Rose Tyler's mum Jackie right outside. "Where is she? Where is my daughter? What's happened to her?"

"She's not here, she's gone, but I've got something to show you. You better come inside." Mickey said.

"What do you mean, she's gone?" Jackie asked, following Mickey inside and stopping at the sight of the laptop. "What is this? Where did it come from? That's not yours!"

"It belongs to this investigator, Sherlock Holmes. His partner Dr. John Watson was holding on to it, but he left it behind when the two of them left with Rose and the Doctor last night." Mickey started to explain.

"What? Investigators? Like criminal investigators? And they left with my daughter and—what doctor?" Jackie frowned as she said, "I remember there were a pair of investigators who wanted to talk with Rose yesterday morning, that was the last I saw of her. There was a short, older man with blond hair and a limp and a tall, agile, sleek young man with dark hair-"

"Yeah, that was them! Sherlock and John!" Mickey turned on the laptop and showed her everything he could about Sherlock, John, and the alien Doctor.

Jackie gaped at all of this information and shook her head, "No, I don't-I don't believe you!" She left Mickey's apartment and called the police about her daughter's disappearance, but when they asked about any information she might have on her daughter's whereabouts and last known appearance, she did add the fact that Rose had last been seen with two blokes who might be Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson. At which point, Lestrade was called in to question Jackie and Mickey as to the two men's involvement with Rose, a serious allegation in the girl's disappearance, and Mycroft was apprised of this latest development.

Mycroft frowned to himself as he read and listened to the testimonials of Mickey and Jackie recorded by the police, especially Mickey babbling on about the alien Doctor. "He knows too much information about the Doctor to have only met him once." Mycroft remarked to Anthea. "I fear my brother may have been too careless in mislaying his laptop and all of our top secret files on the Doctor. I thought he would have done better than that."

"Shall we locate and retrieve the laptop?" Anthea asked.

"Yes. And be sure to bring in Mickey Smith as well for questioning and debriefing. We can't have him spilling too many beans now, can we?" Mycroft asked.

"Of course, sir." Anthea sent off Mycroft's orders. Mickey Smith's flat was broken into late at night, Sherlock's laptop was retrieved, all of Mickey's computer equipment was wiped clean to destroy any duplication of Sherlock's files and Mickey himself was kidnapped and brought to MI6 headquarters.

"What's going on here?" Mickey asked, scared and nervous, but trying to hide it as Mycroft entered the room. Mickey recognized him. "You're Sherlock's brother, aren't you? Mycroft or what not? He's got your photo on his computer and with what he's written-"

"I could have you locked away for the rest of your life for stealing and spilling government secrets without a chance for appeal, so let's not make this any worse than it has to be, shall we?" Mycroft asked Mickey, smiling as he sat down before him.

"All right then." Mickey managed to say. "What's it going to take for you to free me?"

"A promise to be good, not to disclose anything of what you have learned, to rescind all of your testimony regarding Sherlock Holmes, Dr. John Watson, and the Doctor. And, of course, to keep a watchful eye out for my brother and both doctors, whenever they should return." Mycroft said.

"Do you want me to spy for you?" Mickey asked. "I could do that, you know. I could work for you."

"Don't push your luck." Mycroft said, studying the young man. "But yes, should the need arise, I want you on standby. Just in case. My assistant will provide you with further details and information."

"Thank you." Mickey Smith sagged in his chair. So Mickey confessed to Lestrade that he had lied about Sherlock and John being involved, and made up the story about the alien Doctor.

However, Jackie Tyler was another matter entirely. She would not rescind her testimony concerning Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson, even though she didn't believe in the alien Doctor. Anthea attempted to visit Ms. Tyler and discuss the matter with her, even offering some compensation to help her, but Ms. Tyler outright refused. "I don't want compensation, I want my daughter! Where is she? Do you or any of your bosses know where she is?" Jackie was smart enough to figure out that something iffy was going on here, even if she couldn't figure out what sort of person Anthea was or who she worked for.

"No, Ms. Tyler, we don't know where she is." Anthea said, eying Rose's mother. "Neither can we get her back for you if you do not help us. We want your full cooperation on this matter."

"I'm not going to lie." Jackie insisted. "I'm going to insist, until my dying day, that Sherlock Holmes and his friend Dr. John Watson were there in my flat with Rose on the day she vanished. Something fishy is definitely going on here, and I'm going to get to the bottom of it. Even if I have to tear apart the whole bloody United Kingdom!"

"The mother is not going to work with us." Anthea told Mycroft later. "She will take this public and to court if she has to. She will expose everything about Sherlock and his friend."

"Can we afford to lose Sherlock?" Mycroft sighed to himself.

"Are you certain that you want to give up on him?" Anthea asked.

"We may not have any choice if Sherlock doesn't come back with Rose Tyler alive and well soon." Mycroft remarked. "And given that they're traveling with the Doctor, that isn't exactly a given."

"I'll make the arrangements soon." Anthea told him. "His activities will be entirely divorced from your own. It will be like you never had a brother."

"It worked last time." Mycroft muttered to himself. "What will I tell mum and dad, though?"

"I'm sure they will understand." Anthea lowered her head as she walked away from her boss.

"Hmm, Mycroft is panicking." Moriarty remarked, examining his reports. "He's effectively cut himself off from Sherlock, thanks to that disappearing girl trick." Moriarty snorted. "I tell you, Harold, that Doctor is an effective agent of chaos. Too bad he's not on our side, isn't it?"

"I've told you time and time again, don't call me Harold." The Master growled to himself, looking up at Moriarty. "It's the most useless, annoying, pointless name in the universe."

"Well, it is your name, Harold, until we make ourselves known." Moriarty glanced at the Master. "I'm sorry, do you still have that pounding headache?" Moriarty grinned and laughed, "Pound, pound, pounding away inside your brain."

"Enough!" The Master shouted, standing up and striding over to Moriarty. "Don't make me choke you to death. Or make you choke yourself."

"You can't work your mojo on me, Master." Moriarty grinned. "I'm immune. I'm not like everybody else. Certainly not like your wife Lucy."

"Pointless wife." The Master added, staring down at Moriarty.

"She's not pointless, not for a while yet." Moriarty glanced up at him. "We need her for now to establish you as a respectable politician and businessman before we make our move. If all else fails, she is key to our success in taking over everything."

"I like the way you think." The Master remarked.

"I learned from the best." Moriarty grinned, causing the Master to laugh.

* * *

It was painfully obvious to Sherlock as they watched the Doctor and Rose play with the TARDIS that the Doctor was just showing off his time travel capabilities for Rose, once he had learned that was key to engaging and retaining her interest in traveling with him. Even though it was Sherlock who had deduced this and helped the Doctor recapture Rose's heart, he found it boring in the extreme for them to be messing around like this and he still couldn't shake off the feeling that Rose had an ulterior motive in traveling with the Doctor when it came to the time travel aspect.

Of course, he and John were no better when they wanted to travel with the alien Doctor for the thrill of it all and to discover new, exciting worlds, but that sense of adventure and intellectual exploration was 'fun', 'camp', and pure in a sense that wasn't boring or 'melodramatic' or deceitful. He and John weren't deceiving the Doctor in a sense, but Rose was, and Sherlock wanted to get to the bottom of it before she ruined everything and betrayed him. However, he couldn't ask Rose outright for she would belay him and turn the Doctor against him and John so that she wouldn't have to answer for her crime.

The Doctor was blind enough in his attraction to Rose that he couldn't see what was the matter with her and he certainly didn't have such affection for Sherlock and John. He would kick them out of the TARDIS before he ever kicked Rose out, even at this early stage of their acquaintance. Sherlock knew that he and John would have to stay on the Doctor's good side for as long as they possibly could, and so he would have to keep his eye on Rose and figure out her motivation before he presented rock-solid evidence to the Doctor that she was up to something. Even then, he would have to persuade the Doctor to believe it and hope that the Time Lord was smart enough to realize the truth. Good luck with that.

"Boys and their toys, even with different species it remains the same." Sherlock remarked.

"Don't you have a few toys that you like?" John asked.

"I am not immune to that either." Sherlock sighed, almost disappointed with himself for such foolishness, but then he smirked when John laughed. Let the man have his humor, Sherlock was willing to indulge John there.

But as the Doctor and Rose babbled about the New Roman Empire, Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Forwards, backwards in time, it doesn't matter, just pick a time and place!" Sherlock shouted at them, startling the others and causing the Doctor to frown at him. He didn't care where or when they wound up, just as long as they got out of the TARDIS in a different time and place from where they had been. He wanted to explore and see the universe, dammit! He wasn't going to wait around here in the TARDIS for them to settle down and stop playing.

"Sherlock, behave." John hissed, feeling embarrassed that Sherlock was already acting out and they hadn't even gone anyplace or anywhen yet. They had to be nice to their bunkmates on here, especially the driver. Who knew when or where they would be getting off this thing? And hopefully they wouldn't be marooned far away from home in a different time, if the Doctor felt so inclined.

"All right, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Miss Rose Tyler, and Dr. John Watson," The Doctor said, enunciating their names with disdain, affection, and curiosity in that order, according to his feelings for them. "You want to go someplace, somewhen new and different? I've got one just for you."

Both Sherlock and John shivered, one in anticipation and the other in fear, as the Doctor's TARDIS was set in motion and then they stopped. The Doctor didn't answer Rose's or Sherlock's questions, and so they both left the TARDIS as quickly as possible. John stood there for a moment longer, though, just staring at the TARDIS door and trying to catch his breath in preparation for stepping out onto an alien world in a different time. He wanted this moment to be etched onto his mind forever.

"Coming, John? Dr. Watson? What should I call you?" The Doctor asked, glancing over at Sherlock's friend that he had not gotten to know very well, aside from what Sherlock had said or implied about him.

Of course, for part of that time, John hadn't been around and then had been made of plastic, but nonetheless, the Doctor felt like he should make some kind of effort to get to know John, especially when Sherlock seemed to care about him and from what little he could tell, Sherlock hardly cared about anyone else. So there had to be something special about John in Sherlock's mind, even if it was for ordinary reasons and ways. John might be key to understanding or reining in Sherlock from time to time and the Doctor wanted to have him handy and on his side, just in case. Plus there was something about John that seemed innocent and lost all at the same time, something sort of precious that couldn't be easily replaced or found in this universe. The Doctor had lost that quality in himself long ago, yet he cherished it, even though he might have to destroy it.

"John is fine, and I'm definitely coming." John said, nodding, and followed after him as they left the TARDIS.

"Look at the décor, definitely not Earth-based from the 21st century." Sherlock remarked to himself, examining the walls as Rose gazed all around. "It has an earth-like tone and design to them, but the materials are completely different. Flexible and durable, not elastic. Faux marble and wood…"

"Gorgeous place." John said to himself, glancing back at the Doctor and mumbling a quiet 'sorry' on Sherlock's behalf.

"Don't mention it." The Doctor told John, and grinned. "And this isn't even half of it." With that said, he went to an electronic display by the door and started fiddling with it using his special device.

"I want that sonic screwdriver." Sherlock muttered to himself as John's head whipped toward him, recognizing the tone. Batten down the hatches, man the port valve, Sherlock was in pirate mode.

"Fat chance of you getting or using it." The Doctor said, annoyed the man would be so presumptuous, as Sherlock arched an eyebrow.

"Challenge accepted." Sherlock said with an acquisitive gleam in his eyes as John groaned to himself, knowing that Sherlock would not rest until he acquired what he so desired and almost always, he got his way. Half the time, though, John wished Sherlock was so acquisitive towards himself. It might feel nice, after all, to be needed and wanted by the world's great consulting detective.

However, John's thoughts were stilled and even Sherlock became quiet and contemplative as the screen lowered before them, revealing the earth. They were in space, looking down upon their home planet, and it was beautiful. All of the humans' breaths stopped, overwhelmed by the sight, as the Doctor came down and stood beside Rose, talking about death and survival. Sherlock frowned to himself and gripped John's hand, realizing that something was amiss here in the Doctor's behavior and actions, and he was proved right.

Sherlock stiffened in shock, trying to consume his emotions as he inhaled sharply, his grip tightening on John as he saw and felt the earth dying so close to them. It was a cruel trick for the Doctor to play on them. He would have none of this, especially with John around. John didn't deserve such ill treatment or abuse of his sensibility.

John gasped, taking it all in and feeling Sherlock's hand in his as the sun expanded ever closer to them and consuming the earth in fire. John processed the news that it was the end of the world, yet five billion years into the future-it seemed so far away, and yet here they were at this moment, all of Earth's future gone in an instance and they were standing here, facing its death together. It seemed heart-breaking and loving all at the same time, especially with Sherlock by his side, something that they but few others could ever experience.

Rose was stunned as well, but the Doctor seemed amused or at least intrigued by all of their reactions, studying them closely. The Doctor was surprised most of all by how visibly John and Sherlock reacted and were affected in different ways, Sherlock most of all. He had not imagined that Sherlock would be so moved by the earth's death, although the consulting detective hid and bottled up his emotions so well behind a veil of logic and reasoning that it was hard, even for a Time Lord, to read him.

And the Doctor very dearly wanted to get to know and understand the mysterious, inscrutable detective, because he liked a good mystery just as much as Sherlock did. And it would have to take something very strong to shake and affect the detective, like John being made of plastic or most notably earth's death in this moment, so that Sherlock could reveal his thoughts and feelings to the Time Lord. So far, what little the Doctor had gleamed about Sherlock Holmes intrigued him even more. There was a real human being inside him, and perhaps something more.

"What is this?" Sherlock asked, turning to face the Doctor after a moment. "Why have you brought us here? There is a reason you are showing this to us, you want to prove a point or demonstrate that—what? We are incapable of escaping a fixed point in time, an ultimate fate? That death and decay is inevitable and nothing, not even our own planet, will last forever? What is the point then of love, music, or anything at all?" Sherlock whispered. "Surely we can figure that one out on our own." John in particular seemed devastated by Sherlock's last pronouncement. If Sherlock felt this way, that there was no point to anything, then maybe he might never be interested in John at all in a meaningful way.

The Doctor frowned. "That's not the point. And there is always a point in love, music, or anything in life, including death." He exhaled, surprised at even himself. Sherlock and John seemed to bring something out of him. They heard an announcement about Platform 1, where they were, and guests, so the Doctor, in as cheerful a tone as he could manage, quickly said, "Come on, let's get some refreshments and meet the others," before Sherlock or John could say something more. He strode off with Sherlock, John, and Rose following after him as Rose started to ask the Doctor about people.

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes to himself. "People wherever you go in time and space," but he didn't question the Doctor again for the moment as he sensed that he had hit a nerve with the Doctor. There was a point for why the Doctor had brought them here and he was going to find out about it.

"Do you believe that there isn't a point?" John asked Sherlock.

"What? Of course there is, John." Sherlock was still thinking about this case with the Doctor, but John was relieved enough to think that Sherlock was referring to existentialism.

Sherlock was intrigued and amused by the Doctor's description of the purpose of Platform 1, typical behavior of the rich to preserve and then destroy things for pleasure, which seemed somewhat pointless in and of itself. Although he paused a moment to consider Rose's equivocation that the Doctor was going to try saving the Earth. It might be like the Doctor to try such a thing and if there was a point for being here that didn't have anything to do with the death of the Earth—but no, the Doctor wouldn't save the Earth this time around, despite the many times that he had in the past. Apparently, this was the true end of the earth, so what was the point of being here?

"I suppose we had a good go of it, didn't we?" John asked the Doctor as Rose talked about being the only humans left.

"You might say that." The Doctor told John before the Host arrived and accosted them. Sherlock tried to think of some excuse for why they were here so that they could stay, but nothing came to him in this strange, alien situation. However, the Doctor had some sort of invite for all of them.

"Not going to get us kicked out of here, are you?" Sherlock asked the Doctor, referring to John and himself, intrigued.

"No, wouldn't dream of it. You two boys are included here in whatever we do." The Doctor said, turning to face Sherlock. "I want you both to see this as well." So that was a point, then? Another step closer to the truth.


	6. Shoot Sherlock!

I loved writing this chapter, really gave me a chance to show off and play around with the story, changing and adding in some plot elements and writing jokes-the puns, oh, the puns. I used to read this web comic, Oracle for Hire, and at one point there were a bunch of tree puns in there...yeah, something along those lines. (And "Shoot Sherlock"? I do occasionally say that in real life. I just had to get that in somewhere.)

* * *

Around then, as the Doctor and Rose talked to each other, the Host went up to a podium and introduced all of the guests in attendance as they entered the meeting room with Sherlock's and John's eyes widening in excitement at their first real sight of aliens in all of their variety. As the Forest of Cheem trees entered the room, Sherlock observed the distinguishing characteristics of their visible vegetation in relation to Earth trees and quoted a Latin name, half wondering if there was any relation.

That Tree whipped his head around to stare at Sherlock. "Have you studied old Earth botany?"

"I took a course." Sherlock fibbed and the Tree nodded, moving on as John gaped at Sherlock, impressed in spite of himself. Both fellows almost thought that Sherlock would get a whack in the jaw if he had made some crude error. "Is the Moxx of Balhoon a ceremonial title?" Sherlock asked the Doctor soon after.

"Yes and no." The Doctor told him, not elaborating.

"Financial Family Seven? Adherents of the Repeated Meme?" John repeated to himself, shaking his head when they entered. "Sounds like a gag. Are they a cult or a corporation? Mixture of both?"

"Something like that." The Doctor frowned to himself as more people or aliens kept coming in. "Might be a shell corporation or a giant galactic hedge fund. There are a few of those hedge funds still around, worth bajillions upon bajillions, maybe even a galazinga."

John's eyes boggled. "Like a galaxy worth of wealth? Gordon Bennett."

"I know, a shame." The Doctor shook his head.

"I wish I had so much, or even a fraction of a fraction of a fraction worth of that." Rose murmured to herself.

Sherlock frowned to himself. "So many of the universe's wealthiest gathered on one platform, one station suspended in space? Sounds like a recipe for disaster. I can smell murder and mystery just around the corner."

"Adventure, too?" Rose asked.

"Possibly." Sherlock said.

"Please don't say that. Haven't we had enough murder and mystery for one day?" John frowned to himself. "Is it still the same day since we met the Autons?"

"I believe so from our personal perspectives." Sherlock remarked.

"Can you really smell murder and mystery?" The Doctor asked.

"He thinks he can. He almost has me believing him." John remarked.

"What? Can't you?" Sherlock asked the others. John shook his head, Rose laughed, and the Doctor didn't respond as the Forest of Cheem approached with their gift of peace. The Doctor got a positive response with his gift, causing Sherlock, John, and Rose to smirk.

"What are those? Seeds of affection? Budding growth of love?" Sherlock asked.

"Talk about a breath of re-leaf." John said. "A breath of life to the tree of life?"

"Oh, leaf him alone, John. Tree-t him with respect." Sherlock said.

"Oh, yew're poplar with the alders, aren't yew?" Rose added, getting into the act.

"Oh, cork it." The Doctor muttered, causing the others to bawl and he groaned. "Trunk off!"

"Don't make him pine or oak for sap-athy." Sherlock said.

"Yeah, trim his enthusi-ashm. Never did meet a plant he didn't leaf." Rose added, laughing.

"Woody kindling stop messing about?" The Doctor asked as the Host started to announce 'From the Silver Devastation…'

"I think we're going overboard on this." John said.

"I agree. Can't we branch out a little?" Sherlock asked. "Stop larching around?"

"Shoot Sherlock!" John shouted, almost overpowering the Host's introduction of the Face of Boe. They got a few stares from some of the other guests, although the Face of Boe seemed to laugh and that levied the mood a little bit.

When the Moxx of Balhoon came over and spit on Rose, Sherlock, and John in turn with the Doctor smiling and thanking the Moxx, Sherlock disdainfully wiped off the spittle and muttered, "I have no response to that." The Moxx growled at him and the others before wheeling off.

The Doctor frowned at Sherlock. "I think you've offended him."

"My apologies, I don't know anything about the cultural courtesies or the social niceties for this era." Sherlock said. "I may need a primer."

"Or any era. He never does know them," John said, shaking his head. "Five billion years in the future or past, and if we ever gave him a primer, he might never read it."

"We oak to spruce yew up a little." Rose told Sherlock.

"Shut up." Sherlock muttered as the Adherents of the Repeated Meme came over and offered them a gift in the form of a metal sphere.

He studied them as intently as he could, but could see nothing beyond their black ceremonial robes. That was the thing, it got so much harder for Sherlock to deduce even simple things from people's appearances when completely removed from their cultural contexts. Five billion years in the future with another species was about as far removed as one could get. However, part of Sherlock knew that some things had to be universal, true on other planets as they were on Earth, even if they were so far removed. He just had to figure out what was universal.

"Oh, what's that?" John asked, staring at the sphere in the Doctor's hands. "Is it worth a fortune?"

"Probably some crab-apple junk." The Doctor said and grimaced to himself, tossing it over to Rose. "Yew'll keep it."

"May I have that?" Sherlock asked her. "Since you got the tree cutting?"

"Oak-kay, sure," Rose said, grinning as she handed it over to Sherlock before she sobered up. "It doesn't suit me. I wood rather have this tree cutting, seeing as how it's a living thing from Earth or somewhere. That metal sphere is just too cold and spherical for me."

"I think it rather suits me," Sherlock said, hefting the sphere and examining it. "I would like to take a closer look at it. See if there's something inside. It seems too heavy to be entirely hollow."

"Don't go destroying another gift, Sherlock." John told him.

"I intend to examine it carefully. I won't break it." Sherlock said as Rose laughed.

"Suit yourself." Rose shrugged, and listened and watched in astonishment as they announced the last living human, the Lady Cassandra.

"Skin on a trampoline?" John asked, gaping at the sight as Sherlock grimaced. "Is that how we humans wind up, five billion years in the future? Skin on a trampoline?" John asked again, turning to the Doctor. "Like Sherlock said, if that's the future of human evolution, then what is the point to it all? No thank you to being the last human above the planet Earth. Sucks to be her, I bet."

"Human evolution is much more complex than that, and there is a point to it all." The Doctor said, trying to reassure both John and Sherlock. "Skin on a trampoline is how she wound up, but that's because she chose to remain completely human and didn't change. Not all humans wound up looking like that. Humanity doesn't die out or remain stagnant, it changes and morphs into new life-forms. There are various, hundreds of humanoid forms, formats, descendants and relatives out there. Skin on a trampoline is the least of your troubles and worries."

"Good to hear." John breathed a sigh of relief. Sherlock and John laughed at the artifacts the Lady Cassandra showed the assembled crowd, but then Rose ran out of the room, overcome by it all and the Doctor ran after her. John hesitated, glancing at Sherlock. "Should we follow after them?"

"Do you insist?" Sherlock asked. When John nodded, Sherlock sighed and said, "Come on," hurrying after them.

"Did that Tree just scan him?" John asked Sherlock as they passed by—what was her name? Jabe? She seemed to be interested in the Doctor.

"Probably. What was that?" Sherlock paused, glancing back into the party room and frowning to himself as he clutched the sphere close to him.

He thought he had seen something odd moving in the corner, but he wasn't sure. He shook his head, thinking the alienness of the situation was even getting to him, and went after John and the others. Sherlock, however, did not notice that he was being watched by the Face of Boe, difficult as it was to discern the expression on that giant face trapped in a semi-translucent jar. John, however, had gotten lost and took a wrong turn, so Sherlock had to go after him first. He spotted John in the middle of a hallway, next to an open vent.

"That's funny." John said, frowning as he bent down to look inside.

"Don't stick your nose in there, John." Sherlock said, startling John, who hit his head on the top of the vent. "You don't know what you are going to find."

"Like a scrap of…blue skin?" John asked, indicating something inside the vent.

Sherlock grabbed John and bodily moved him to the side as he bent down to examine the piece of evidence inside the vent. "You're correct. It does look like blue skin, much like that of the workers and the Host who manage this event. And it appears to be ripped and bloody, if this can be called blood. I believe someone is either severely wounded or possibly murdered. John, I need baggies and a tweezers for evidence." He laid the sphere to the side, prepared to perform a full examination.

"I'm not carrying any with me at the moment. I didn't expect that we would be investigating a crime scene when we left home yesterday. Unless that was still today." John frowned to himself. "Time travel is confusing."

"Surely there are some in my laptop—where is my laptop bag, John?" Sherlock asked, looking up at his friend.

"I left it-oh my god." John gasped.

Sherlock stood up and glared at his friend. "You left it where, John? This is vitally important. That information on there, should it fall into the wrong hands, may leak-"

"Mickey's car, Rose's boyfriend, I left the laptop bag in Mickey's car just before we were all turned into Autons." John said.

Sherlock groaned. "Mickey the idiot. Maybe he won't be able to hack into my laptop, but maybe he might or he might know a friend. I need to get my laptop back before then. We need to return home as soon as possible."

"What about the evidence? Someone could be hurt or dead." John said, looking down and gaping at something on the ground. "What is that mechanoid spider thing?"

"What are you talking-" Sherlock turned around just in time to glimpse the mechanical spider scurrying in through the vent. "Something shady is going on." He briefly noted the open sphere before Sherlock bent down to see the mechanoid spider grabbing the piece of blue skin and dragging it off. "Stop, that's evidence!"

The mechanoid spider turned around, a red light aimed directly at Sherlock, and out of instinct, Sherlock pulled himself out of there and pushed John away as a pulse of energy discharged from the spider, scorching the wall opposite the vent opening. Sherlock and John fled, not waiting around to get shot at again.

"It's the sphere!" John gasped, realizing something was missing here. "The spider came from the sphere!"

"Clever!" Sherlock shouted. "Give all of the guests mechanoid spiders programmed to destroy and decimate guests-"

"But it didn't fire at us until you threatened it or tried to stop it." John said.

"Exactly, even better. The mechanoid spiders must have some other purpose, possibly to destroy, decimate, and sabotage operations here on this space station, only turning on guests or other workers who try to stop them." Sherlock said.

"But that means—Earth is about to die, to be swallowed up by solar flares, and we are stuck here on this doomed space station in the middle of it all." John said, slowing down to a stop.

"You're right about that, John." Sherlock frowned to himself, pausing to turn around and face John. "This space station must have some kind of shielding, possibly a cooling system, powerful enough in normal circumstances to stop us from being destroyed by these solar flares. But if that system is jeopardized or destroyed, then there's nothing stopping us from being destroyed. We've walked right into a trap, the perfect murder spree of the richest people in the universe."

John gaped at Sherlock. "What in hell are we going to do here? We're doomed!"

"You're wrong, John. We will find the Doctor and Rose, solve the situation here root out the trouble with the Doctor's help, and get back home as soon as possible!" Sherlock cried, running off again. "I need my laptop back!"

"Not everything is about you!" John shouted back at him, racing after him again. Suddenly, the whole space station shook, startling John and Sherlock and unbalancing them. "What was that?" John shouted, trying to stabilize himself. "Have those spiders gotten at some gravity support system? Are we losing orbit?"

"No, I don't know, I'm not some space engineer, John." Sherlock said, straightening himself out as well. "I think we're safe enough for now, but yes, I think that could be a result of the spiders' messing about with the systems."

John groaned. "This is a hell of a mess."

"What do you want me to say? We'll get out of it, don't worry. Trust me." Sherlock smiled at him as best he could.

"Don't patronize me. I want to believe you, but you're not exactly reassuring me and you're not in any more control of it than I am." John said. "Let's just go find the Doctor and Rose."

Sherlock and John started running off again, but apparently they made a big loop as they heard the Doctor and Rose talking and found them back in the meeting room, only this time all of the guests were agitated and upset about the 'gravity pocket', according to the Host's announcement, but not even the guests were buying that. John looked around at the wait staff and shivered, half thinking to himself that they looked like armed and armored soldiers waiting to fire on the crowd if they got any more anxious. Of course, in reality, their 'guns' were really trays, but nonetheless, this situation really had John on edge.

"Doctor!" Sherlock shouted, causing the Doctor and Rose to turn and face them, and Sherlock dropped his voice even lower as he approached so that only John, the Doctor, and Rose could hear him at this point. He certainly did not want to cause a panic at this moment and the Adherents of the Repeated Meme were still in the room, so if they were aware that their plans had gone awry, they would surely unleash the full deadly force of those mechanical spiders. It might well be a massacre at that point.

"It's sabotage. The Adherents of the Repeated Meme have given us all the means of our own destruction. Mechanical spiders have been snuck onboard this space station inside each of those spheres and they seem programmed to sabotage all important, life-sustaining components onboard this space station, killing anyone who gets in their way." Sherlock said.

"Ah." The Doctor said, slowly nodding as Rose's eyes boggled in shock and horror. "I thought there was something up with those spiders I saw crawling on the walls before."

"You've stumped me." Sherlock said.

"You've seen them?" John said. "And you didn't say?"

"I only saw them a few minutes ago, on my way to finding Rose and parking the TARDIS." The Doctor said. "I didn't know what they were, but-" He reached into his pocket and removed his sonic screwdriver and a penlight. "I took a quick scan of their signal before they scurried away, same as that Tree Jabe scanned me earlier." He shook his sonic screwdriver. "Did it as inconspicuously as possible before they knew what I was doing, while I pretended I didn't even see them." He winked and pointed his sonic screwdriver at the penlight, buzzing the bigger device at the smaller device. "My sonic screwdriver has done a quick configuration and found out how to deactivate the spiders' signal. It should render them inert within a given radius. The problem is the danger they've already wrought, which won't be so easily deactivated."

"Brilliant." Sherlock said, staring at the sonic screwdriver and desiring it even more.

"I know. Here you go," The Doctor said, handing over the penlight to Sherlock. "I copied the deactivation signal on here, all it can do, really. It's a bug light now. I'm designating you the bug exterminator. Go around, buzz that bug light, and any spiders within the vicinity should be deactivated."

"Glorified bug exterminator? That's it?" Sherlock asked, handing the bug light to John instead. "What about you, Doctor? Where are you going?"

"I'm going to the engine rooms to see if I can't figure out what sort of trouble the bugs have caused and if I can fix it." The Doctor said. "The full extent of the damage won't show up on any scan anymore, the computer systems themselves might be compromised. I have to go in person and see. The rest of you, stay here." He ordered, walking off.

"I'm coming with you, Doctor. John, you take care of the bugs." Sherlock told his friend, following after the Doctor.

John frowned, glaring at the bug light and muttered, "You think I want to be a glorified bug exterminator, too?" He sighed and said, "Rose, do you want to come with me?"

Rose shook her head. "No, I want to talk with Lady Cassandra, the last human. I want to give her a piece of my mind and find out a little more about her, the birch." Rose grinned.

John glanced over at her and said, "Why? Do you think she's involved with this, too?"

"I'm not sure." Rose said, staring at John. "I just want a word."

"Be careful, Rose. You don't know what you're dealing with here." John told her, clasping Rose's shoulder.

"I can handle myself." Rose wiggled away from him. "Now go on, protect us all with your trusty bug light. Zap some spiders for me." She laughed, heading over to Lady Cassandra.

"All right, all right," John muttered, walking off with his trusty bug light in hand, all alone now. "Bonsai." He muttered.


	7. Chestnut Roasting

As soon as they left, however, the Doctor and Sherlock realized they had no idea how to reach the engine room. "There's an access shaft just behind my guest quarters." They heard a voice say, and turned around to face Jabe, who had apparently followed them out of the meeting room and overheard them talking. "If you would like, I could show you."

Sherlock and the Doctor glanced at each and shrugged, agreeing, so the Tree led the way. Sherlock thought she was harmless enough, enamored of the Doctor, perhaps. When they reached the access shaft, she asked to come along with them. "Doctor, surely we can do without her?" Sherlock insisted. "She's a liability."

"I am not a liability, and who are you? His companion? His mate? His concubine?" She asked, causing Sherlock to gape at her and the Doctor to laugh.

"Come along, Jabe, we can do with someone like you." The Doctor said, entering the shaft.

"Canopy with us." Sherlock muttered.

"Of course I can." Jabe said, smiling as she gracefully entered the access shaft. The Doctor questioned her about who ran Platform One as Sherlock moped along behind them. For a moment, as the Doctor talked about Titanic and how 'fantastic' it was that there was no to help them out here, Sherlock thought he spotted a spider. He frowned and kept going, hoping John was doing his job well.

"Why don't you build her a treehouse?" Sherlock muttered to himself as the Doctor and Jabe talked about her wealth and the tropical rainforest.

Then they stopped as the Doctor tried to access the engine room and Jabe questioned the Doctor, saying something about 'nothing else left' and knowing where he was from. Sherlock frowned to himself, wondering if she was referring to the war the Doctor had just been in. A war in which a planet—Sherlock gasped as he realized that it was the Doctor's planet, just as his, John's, and Rose's planet was about to be destroyed right now by the swelling sun. The Doctor's planet must have been destroyed in the war, and what about him? Sherlock wondered. Was he the last of his kind?

The Doctor had completely frozen and shut down, just as he did when Rose first refused to go with him, and now Sherlock could understand why. Sherlock gaped at him, horrified in spite of his usual callous demeanor, in full contemplation of the horror and grief the Doctor must have suffered through as Jabe apologized and clutched at the Doctor's leather-clad arm with her spindly, wooden fingers, finally getting a reaction out of him. The Doctor's eyes had tears in them as he turned his head to face them, but he said nothing as he touched Jabe's fingers, refusing to acknowledge her words or Sherlock's newfound knowledge otherwise before he got back to work, revitalized once more.

Sherlock turned his head away and cleared his throat, "Right, sorry," He managed to say, not looking at either one of them right now. This was getting more complicated than he could ever have imagined, if he had such feelings of sympathy for the Doctor so soon after meeting him.

"Don't mention it." The Doctor added to both of them as Sherlock and Jabe both nodded. They finally entered the engine room and marveled at this piece of engineering.

"I'm not an expert here, but it doesn't look like anything is wrong." Sherlock managed to say. "It hasn't overheated."

"No, the damage hasn't reached the engine room yet, and if we're lucky, it won't." The Doctor said, remarking on the 'retro' as he headed to the control panel, still in a bad mood after Jabe's reminder of the destruction of his planet, like he needed it when he was reminded of it every damn second of his life.

And now Sherlock had worked it out when he wasn't supposed to know, damn detective, and now the Doctor would have to deal with him and John and then Rose knowing about what he had to do, because Sherlock wouldn't shut up about it, would he? No, he would blab about it to the others, the great detective had solved another problem. The Doctor could already tell it was going to happen, the question was when and how they would react. He feared their disgust, horror, and sympathy, especially Rose. He didn't want her looking at him with that knowledge and he didn't want to deal with her or the others.

"Hopefully John takes care of the spiders." The Doctor muttered. However, as he ripped off the control panel to check it out, one of the spiders skittered out. "Damn things." The Doctor tried to knock it out with his sonic screwdriver, but Jabe got it with her liana. The Doctor incapacitated it, and both he and Sherlock examined the device to figure out exactly where it had come from.

"What about the manufacturing?" Sherlock said, uncertain about the Doctor's reaction in full awareness of his distemper. "Can you tell anything?"

"Fairly simple, cobbled-together piece of technology." The Doctor muttered to himself, not really wanting to talk to Sherlock at this point, but he didn't have much of a choice. The detective was smart as apes went, and he might have some insight into this mess. "The programming wired into it is slightly more complex, but pretty commonplace at this point in time."

"So anyone could have done it, like the Adherents of the Repeated Meme." Sherlock said, relaxing slightly, certain that they were the culprits still.

"Well, to do so on an elaborate scale, so many spiders working together and separately, requires some serious funds to produce, but yes, anyone can do it." The Doctor said, glancing up at him. Sherlock felt a chill in his bones. "Of course, if they were incredibly wealthy, like a zillionaire or a galazingaer, none of this would have been necessary. They could have sabotaged Platform One by more elaborate, complex, costlier means. So no, I don't think a real group from Financial Family Seven would have resorted to this."

"So they're fakes? Not a group of zillionaires, nor the richest persons here, but some people who might stand to gain a profit from this enterprise." Sherlock said, nodding. "Of course, that makes sense. But who are they then?"

"Not just fakes, but too obvious. I think this is set-up, a sham, a gag, a shell game." The Doctor said, tossing the spider at Sherlock. "We need to find the real culprits. Come on!" He stormed out of the engine room.

"Well, who are they, then?" Sherlock asked, exasperated as he and Jabe followed the Doctor heading back to the meeting room, probably to confront the others. He started listing the names of all the guests here on Platform One, but the Doctor dismissed most of them out of hand, still considering the possibilities of others.

"I'm impressed you can remember so many." Jabe said. Sherlock shrugged as they came across the Steward's office and discovered he had been roasted—the Doctor quickly checked out the problem and pointed out another descender coming down.

"Who puts in sun-filters that can descend? Isn't the whole point-let's go check it out." Sherlock said, frustrated and worried as the two of them rushed off while Jabe went to warn the others in the meeting room of the sabotage.

A little while earlier, John wandered along the corridors of Platform One; every couple of feet, he pressed the sonic penlight button, which emitted a pulse and, occasionally, he heard the slightly satisfying but also disturbing sound of an electrical shriek and burst. Another mechanical spider dead, but also an indication of how many had infected the inner workings of this space station, sabotaging vital components. And throughout, with no one else around to talk to, he kept muttering to himself, "'John, do you want to be a glorified bug zapper? No, I do not. Well, here you go, have fun and play nice while I go run after the Doctor, ta!' Christ, Sherlock, why do I put up with you?" John sighed to himself. "Why do I even bother?"

He turned a corner and stopped, finding himself face-to-hood with the Adherents of the Repeated Meme. "Christ, you could give a guy a heart attack!" John said, trying to act natural and friendly, but already afraid as to why they were here. One of them reached out to grab him and before John could really think, he reacted by pressing the sonic penlight button. At that point, the Adherent reacted, short-circuiting with a shriek and jerking about, hands clamping at nothing. "Christ, robots! You're just like those spiders!" John laughed, but the sonic penlight wasn't as effective with these larger robots as they were with the smaller ones. The others, being too far out of range, were moving forward, so John kept clicking as he started to run away and the Adherents pursued him.

A door opened near an end of a corridor and John ran in, not realizing that he was going into one of those damn observation rooms and a dead end until it was too late and then the door was closing right behind him. "Oh, no." John said, turning back around and pounding on the door as he shouted, "Let me out!"

"John?" He heard Rose's voice and turned around, seeing her lying on the floor below, as if she was just waking up.

"Are you hurt?" John asked, concerned as he came down to check her out. "Nasty bump on the head you got there. Let me guess, the Adherents of the Repeated Meme? They're robots, you know, just like the spiders."

"Really?" Her eyes widened. "I had an argument with Lady Cassandra and I might have insulted her and told her I was the last human." Rose said, grimacing as John gazed at her in shock. "That probably made her angry. And then the Adherents got me, so…I guess it's her, then. She's programmed the robots."

"Wow, unbelievable. Sherlock was so convinced-" John started to say, but then they were blinded by the sunlight with the filter descending. John and Rose rushed to the door, screaming and pounding, and they soon heard the Doctor and Sherlock outside. Sherlock was starting to panic, realizing what was going on, but the Doctor was working as quickly and calmly as he could with the sonic screwdriver and Sherlock knew it was best not to bother him in his disturbed state. However, he still wanted a sonic screwdriver if he could have helped.

"Sherlock, it's Lady Cassandra!" John shouted, convinced this might be his last breath and he wanted to give out a final warning. "The Adherents are robots like the spiders. We think she's controlling them-"

"No, John, you are not going to die!" Sherlock shouted back at him. "We are doing this together-" Finally, the Doctor fixed the problem with the sun-filter, much to the relief of everyone else, until it malfunctioned again. "What did you do!" Sherlock shouted at the Doctor now.

The Doctor, who had been trying to stay calm, was panicking as well with Rose and John trapped and dying, babbling about the computer fighting back. "If you kill John, so help me, nowhere in the universe is safe for you." Sherlock insisted.

"Trust me, nowhere is safe." The Doctor managed to say, fully convinced that he was cursed. At last, the sun-filter rose again and seemed to stay there, although he still couldn't get them out.

"We've got to get Lady Cassandra." Sherlock said. "She's the one responsible for this." Sherlock ran off, with the Doctor following to confront Lady Cassandra, leaving John and Rose alone and trapped.

"Now what are we going to do?" John asked, depressed.

Rose held out a thumbs-up. "I declare a thumb war." John sighed and with little choice left, participated in the childish game to satisfy Rose. "Beech ya!" Rose laughed after a minute.

"Hawthorn me another opportunity." John said, getting into it.

Sherlock raved and threatened Lady Cassandra as the Doctor and Jabe held him back from killing her. Security stepped forward to arrest him, but the Doctor tried to make a reasoned appeal and prove that she was guilty, offering the spider as testimony and proving the Adherents were robots. However, security still couldn't stop Lady Cassandra from teleporting out of there and the remaining spiders from exploding, damaging their shields. Sherlock groaned and felt like tearing out his hair in frustration, but there was no time left as the Doctor had to go reset the computer in the engine room. Sherlock and Jabe raced after him to help.

"You made things worse." Jabe insisted, blaming Sherlock. "You could have been more diplomatic like the Doctor-"

"He prattled on for too long! I was trying to be useful and help John and Rose!" Sherlock said. "Besides, he hasn't always been diplomatic-"

"Will you please shut up!" The Doctor shouted back at Sherlock, knowing where he was going with that and not wanting to get involved in a discussion of the war right now. They reached the engine room, hotter than ever before, and Sherlock cursed up a storm at learning the reset switch was on the other side of a bunch of swirling blades.

"Who designed this ship?" Sherlock shouted. "They must be a madman!"

"Shut up, I'm thinking!" The Doctor shouted back at him, calculating the speed of the blades and then turning back around, finding the switch that slowed down the blades, but it wouldn't stay down.

"I'll hold it, just go!" Sherlock shouted at him, grabbing the switch. Jabe tried to help, but Sherlock shouted at her, "Get out of here, birch! Or you'll be a chestnut roasting on an open fire with me!" Jabe panicked and fled without a word as the Doctor stared at Sherlock in horror. "Go, Time Lord." Sherlock said. The Doctor nodded and hurried, trying to avoid the swirling blades. Sherlock gasped, struggling to maintain hold and pressure on a red-hot piece of metal in a sweltering oven with the temperature rising to the surface of the sun.

"Orchard glad I didn't say banana?" John said, finishing up a joke in an effort to get Rose to laugh, when the room started burning all around them and the glass cracking. "It's been nice knowing you and the Doctor." John managed to say, grimacing as he wished—no, it was better than Sherlock wasn't here, even though he missed him.

"You and Sherlock as well." Rose said, gripping his hand as they both closed their eyes.

"Good-bye, John." Sherlock whispered, sweating profusely as he sagged, feeling like his moist, then desert-dry hands were already burning and about to give up their hold, but he was still maintaining as much pressure as he possibly could on the switch.

Finally, his hands slipped off and he collapsed, landing hard on the floor. For a moment, it felt like a cool breeze was blowing…Sherlock closed his eyes, prepared to breathe his last, when suddenly he heard someone shouting. He stirred and opened his eyes; it was a lot less brighter and hotter in here than it was before. In fact, it was as cold as it was when he, the Doctor, and Jabe first entered the engine room. He looked up at footsteps to see the Doctor wearily and sadly staring down at him.

"You all right?" The Doctor managed to say.

"A shower. A lap in your pool." Sherlock wheezed. "Cool, crisp, water—no. Ice. Lots of ice in your pool and shower. Can you do this for me?"

"Course I can. It's not every day you nearly burn yourself to death trying to save complete strangers." The Doctor said, bending down to help Sherlock up. "At least if you're not me."

"That's right." Sherlock coughed as they limped out of the engine room and back to the meeting room. "I deserve some thanks." The Doctor rolled his eyes.

After a minute, Rose and John opened their eyes to see the window repairing itself. Everything had stopped burning. They were feeling better now, breathing heavily in some relief. They managed to get out of the observation room and slowly made their way back, in time to meet the Doctor and Sherlock. John rushed forward to check on and take care of his friend, who looked like he was nearly burned half to death, while the Doctor went to check on Jabe and the other Trees, thanking her for helping them out. Jabe nodded, concerned about Sherlock, but said nothing more as the Doctor found a way to summon back Lady Cassandra.

Despite his condition, Sherlock watched with interest as Lady Cassandra was confronted by the Doctor and then she dried out—to the point of death and exploding into a bunch of pieces. Rose had appealed to the Doctor, despite the suffering Lady Cassandra had caused, because she couldn't bear to see someone suffer and die this way, but the Doctor insisted it was for the best.

John gagged slightly as the Doctor left, but Sherlock said, "It's what she deserved. The last human who caused so much death and destruction…is that what he thinks he deserves?"

"What? You mean the Doctor?" John asked as Rose wandered off as well, the two of them left alone for now.

"Sherlock? John? Are you two all right?" The two men heard a mysterious voice say, and they turned around to gape at the Face of Boe, staring down at them from his tank.

"Yes, we are, all things considered." Sherlock said, frowning as he stared at him. "Do we know you?"

"Not yet, but you will." The Face of Boe said, slowly nodding. "Just be careful, you two, and watch out for the Doctor and Rose as well. I worry that they are at a vulnerable place in their lives. How things settle out…well, only time will tell."

"What about us?" John asked, curious. "How do things fare between me and Sherlock?"

The Face of Boe grinned. "It'll be dangerous, but I think you two will make it…barely."

"Thank you for being so mysterious." Sherlock muttered.

"You're quite welcome. Have pleasant dreams, good night." The Face of Boe said, turning away from them.

"Good night?" Sherlock said, sitting up and staring at him. "With the sun burning so bright?"

"I do feel tired." John admitted. "We haven't slept in a while, since this whole thing began. Let's go find the TARDIS and see if we can't find a bed."

"A bed." Sherlock muttered, thinking as John helped him up and they limped off in search of the TARDIS. "Thank you, Face of Boe."

"What?" John said as they reunited with the Doctor and Rose, also heading for the TARDIS.

"Doctor, could we have a bedroom?" Sherlock asked as they entered the TARDIS.

The Doctor hesitated, glancing back at them, and nodded. He gave them directions to a bedroom, Rose grinning to herself, as Sherlock and John limped off together. They found the bedroom, although John was shocked to find it had one bed as Sherlock grabbed him, kissed him, and pulled him towards the bed.

"Wait a minute, I really am tired!" John gasped, pulling away and dismaying Sherlock. "While I really do love and appreciate you, I think I'm not ready yet to jump into bed together. I'm tired, you're tired, we're both overheated and nearly died a couple of times and we both need a rest. We're partners first and foremost and I don't want to jeopardize that just yet. So let's get you settled into bed, cooled down, and then we can rest in separate rooms for now, eh?"

Sherlock slowly nodded. "If you say so, John."

He complied with the doctor's wishes, settling down into bed as John conveniently found some ice packs (thanks to the intelligent, perceptive TARDIS) and cooled down the detective to normal body temperature. John kissed the detective and bade him good-night, leaving the room to find his own next door; he collapsed onto the bed and soon started snoring.

Sherlock, uncharacteristically, found himself able to sleep for a good, long period of time, probably exhausted and drained from the past day or so of running around with the Doctor. Finally, however, Sherlock stirred and awoke, as perceptive and alert as he ever was with his memories fully intact and aware of where he was. He extracted himself from the pile of ice packs, which had long since warmed up or melted to normal temperature and felt fully capable and well again to face another day of traveling with the Doctor.

He got out of bed and walked out of the room, finding his way back to the console room easily enough, given the directions the Doctor had given to him and John last night. He found the Doctor awake, sitting back and resting on the jump seat situated next to the console. "Good morning," The Doctor said, raising his head and grinning at the detective. "And how did you sleep?"

"Uncannily well." Sherlock remarked, eying him. "Almost as if I was influenced to do so. And how did you sleep, Doctor? Or do you need sleep?"

"I don't need as much as you lot do, but I don't sleep less than you lot think you need." The Doctor said, eying Sherlock. "It would be careless of me to let my friends go for very long without sleep. I don't need them dying from exhaustion. There are too many other ways that they could meet their ends as you well know by now."

"Friends? And here I was thinking that we were nearly enemies." Sherlock remarked, catching himself from exposing the look of shock on his face. He hadn't expected the Doctor to call him or John his 'friends' ever, or at least him when he didn't have any friends, apart from John.

"Well, enemies don't help each other out, or not nearly so much as you and John have, and though you are an annoyance at times, I'm willing to forgive you if you and John help me out. I believe we have an accord of sorts." The Doctor said, smiling.

"Right, friends it is, then." Sherlock said, glancing up at the Doctor in some hesitation and unexpected pleasure. More than one friend, especially one like the Doctor, might be good. "What about you and Rose? How did things go with you two? I imagine she wasn't ready yet to go to bed, so soon after the earth exploded. John and I were too exhausted and distracted to think much about it, but I believe she was more caught up in that drama than we were. Did she recover?"

"She and I stopped off for a bit on Earth in the 21st century, just to get some perspective." The Doctor said, sighing. "We had chips and I told her. About my planet and the war."

"You were keeping that so tight in your chest." Sherlock commented, shocked. "I wouldn't have said anything if you thought that I was going to blab about that."

"No, no, it wasn't that, I just thought it was time. To tell her the truth about why I had showed her all of that." The Doctor sighed. "I needed to let her know, to let you all know, how I felt. How I still feel."

"So that was the point." Sherlock said, slowly nodding. "I kind of figured that out, after a while." He frowned. "You should have told me and John we were stopping off, though, especially if it was London in our time period, soon after the Auton invasion. I could have picked up my laptop from Mickey-"

"Mickey? Rose's boyfriend?" The Doctor grimaced. "What's so important about your laptop that you would want to do that?"

"It's got all of my case files on it, my personal information, my hacker programs and all of those UNIT and Torchwood files on you-" Sherlock listed.

"What? You left all of that valuable information with Mickey?" The Doctor gaped at Sherlock, stunned. "You really are thick. Why would you go and do a thing like that for?"

"It wasn't my fault." Sherlock said. "I left the laptop with John, who left it in Mickey's car when he and Mickey were taken by the Autons. We forgot all about it until we were on Platform One, and then we forgot it again with the sun-filters descending."

The Doctor groaned and said, "We already left 21st century Earth and London behind us, we're traveling in the Vortex again. I'm not sure if I can get us straight back there." He looked up and said, "I was going to take us to 19th century Naples, 1860 to be precise, to show—well, Rose in particular, a good time in the past. It would mean a lot to me to show her a good time."

"One quick stop there in Naples, in the past, and then back home to London in the 21st century to pick up my laptop, and then we go on again, all right?" Sherlock asked. "You sure you can get us back home soon after we left?"

The Doctor nodded. "Positive. It may not be minutes after we left Mickey behind, maybe more like hours, but yeah, I can get us back in good time."

"Good to know." Sherlock smiled. "Naples it is, then. I've never been there. Is it French?"

"Something like that, Italian." The Doctor frowned to himself, wondering if Sherlock was pulling his legs, pretending not to know where Naples was. Surely he was smart enough to know that, a fairly smart human detective like himself? Hmm, well, he was about to find out.


	8. The Hearse

Despite Sherlock's protests of not being hungry or thirsty, the Doctor coaxed him into having some tea in the TARDIS kitchen. Sherlock grumbled to himself as he slurped some of the brew and then nicked some jammie dodgers, listening to the Doctor recite a couple of exploits to him. Eventually, John stumbled into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing his eyes, wearing some new old-fashioned 19th century clothes that had inexplicably shown up in the drawers of his dresser. This included a white linen shirt with an upturned collar, a beige waistcoat the same color as his trousers, a red frock coat and a bowler hat. There was also an overcoat he was hanging onto, just in case.

With nothing else to wear since his old clothes were torn, tattered, and burned from the past couple of days, John had gone ahead and changed, not certain if this was going to stand out or fit right in with wherever and whenever they were going next, though he assumed that it had to be necessary. He blearily stared at the Doctor and Sherlock sitting together, eating, drinking, and talking, surprised at seeing Sherlock look so normal. Sherlock's eyes widened at the sight of John, admiring him before he stood up, kissed him hard on the lips, and slipped his way out the door, heading back to his own room in anticipation of finding some new clothes as well.

John blushed slightly, grinning as well at this personal reminder of how much things had changed between him and Sherlock. "So how did it go last night?" The Doctor asked, eying John with a grin.

"Nothing much happened." John managed to say, soon sitting down with a cup to drink and eat, feeling famished and thirsty. "We didn't need to jump in right away, after all, not with what we had just been through. I think it's best for us to take things slow, ease into it first. We are pretty new at this, after all, or at least I am with a man. Not sure about him." John frowned to himself, wondering if Sherlock ever had a relationship with anyone.

"Right." The Doctor nodded, silent for the most part as John ate and drank, and then Rose came in soon after, asking John the very same question in a more teasing tone.

John groaned and gave pretty much the same reply, not liking to repeat himself, as Rose laughed slightly before Sherlock returned. He was dressed in the same manner as John was, though his waistcoat and trousers were black, his frock coat was navy-blue, and he had a top hat instead. Rose joked and laughed about their clothes with Sherlock and John rolling their eyes and taking the humor in stride until the Doctor told Rose about their next destination and time period. Rose quieted down, her eyebrows rising in surprise as the two other men smirked at her, but then she gleefully smiled and hurried off to get changed as well.

The Doctor, Sherlock, and John went off to the console room, ready to land soon, although the Doctor had to hold off on materializing as he fixed up something down below. Sherlock and John watched, offering advice or asking questions, and the Doctor told them to sod off after a bit, causing them both to laugh. The Doctor emerged and asked for their help in trying to materialize, although it was way more difficult than they had imagined it would be and the other two men fell onto the floor. The Doctor shook his head, grumbling about their interference, and went back to work as Sherlock and John recovered.

Rose walked into the console room in her new dress at that point and the Doctor marveled over Rose, though he tried to disguise it, causing Sherlock to arch an eyebrow and grin with some amusement over their evasive, though obvious attachment. John frowned to himself, noticing the same thing as he wondered why the Doctor would avoid Rose. The Doctor got out of his hole once more, telling Rose that they had landed in Naples, December 24, 1860, and Rose made a great speech about being able to time travel and experience moments long past and gone, marveling over the Doctor.

Sherlock now frowned to himself, catching a sour, sad note in Rose's speech that made him wonder once more at her motivation for traveling with the Doctor—perhaps she dearly wanted to experience one of these past moments for herself before it was lost forever? What if she wanted to change or prolong one of these past moments? Could the Doctor be persuaded to help her in that regard? Sherlock didn't know the Doctor's policy on time travel and interfering in past events, but he was certain that there were limits to what even a Time Lord was allowed or could do. After all, if the Doctor could change any past event he liked, then he would surely have done all he could to save his own planet.

Rose and the Doctor were practically mooning over each other as Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Yes, and that moment is right outside those doors, waiting for us to experience it. So unless we want to go back again to this past moment, then we might as well go out now before we lose it!"

"You're hopeless." The Doctor told Sherlock as John nodded in agreement, but Rose grinned and went out on her own, experiencing that moment before the Doctor, Sherlock, and John joined her, stepping out onto the snow.

The Doctor and Rose latched arms, Sherlock and John walked side by side, close to touching, out into the Christmas Eve night, glancing around. Even Sherlock had to admit that, even aside from the coal-soaked, polluted, gaseous, shitty, and whatever else he could smell, air, the atmosphere seemed different somehow. The lights were not as bright and cheery as they used to be, so much darker and wilder as well with strange, half-hidden going-ons happening on practically every street corner and alleyway. Sherlock sort of loved it, quite different and yet not so different from 21st century London in many ways. John was intrigued as well, but he didn't question what he witnessed, he just tried to enjoy it all and soak it in with Sherlock by his side.

"I don't believe we are in the right place, though we might be in the right time frame." Sherlock said after some moments of wandering about. They heard Christmas carolers singing in the distance.

"What? Of course we are," The Doctor said, glancing back at him as Rose paused a moment to watch and listen.

"What do you mean?" John asked Sherlock, glancing at a black coach-hearse pulled up to a stop, and shivered.

"The Doctor said we are in Naples, and while I have never been there before in the past or future, I would say that this place doesn't look quite Italian or French to me." Sherlock remarked to himself, glancing at a nearby theatre. "I would say it looks almost British."

"I might agree with him." Rose remarked, disagreeable for the sake of fun.

"British?" The Doctor scoffed, shaking his head. "It's Naples, Christmas 1860, and I'll prove it to you." He walked off and purchased paper from a vendor, to confirm—Cardiff, 1869. Sherlock nearly laughed at the look of disappointment on their faces. "Shut it." The Doctor said to him before Sherlock had a chance to speak to him.

"Ah, well, I suppose he can't get everything right." John muttered to himself.

"It is disturbing, though, that the Doctor might overshoot or miss the mark when it comes to time travel, bringing us to the wrong time or place." Sherlock told John in a low voice so as not to disturb the Doctor any further. "It shouldn't be so imprecise, though he does have a rickety old machine that looks to be cobbled together out of old parts, has seen a fair share of battle, and been banged around a bit through time and space. Plus, he does have a bit of insanity and post traumatic stress."

"I'm sure we'll be fine, Sherlock." John managed to say. "We've survived a few hair-raising experiences so far and we'll probably face a whole lot more before we're done, but I think traveling to the wrong time or place could be the least of our worries!"

"I might pray you're right on that account if I believed in it." Sherlock murmured, at which point they heard screaming in the distance, coming from the direction of the theatre.

The Doctor and Rose immediately raced off towards it, with Sherlock and John close behind, ready to investigate. They managed to push and shove their way into the theatre, past the crowd running out, in time to see the ghostly figure flying about the theatre! Sherlock and John gaped at it and the Doctor raced towards the stage, babbling to the person—John turned around and gaped instead at the figure up on stage, staring at the ghost in shock and horror.

"Holy cow, it's Charles Dickens!" John cried out and laughed. "Charles Dickens on Christmas Eve with a bloody ghost—Gordon Bennet!"

"What on earth are you going on about—that woman!" Sherlock cried, running off in a different direction.

"Sherlock? Where are you going? Come back!" John shouted at him, but Sherlock had already headed out and John didn't see where he went. Rose was shouting something as well, apparently she had seen something, too, but John couldn't tell what was going on here with the crowd in the way.

"Doctor! Doctor!" John rushed over to the stage, panting and frustrated with missing out on everything. "Forget about Charles Dickens for a minute!"

"Charles Dickens?" The Doctor asked and then turned to stare- "You're right! It is Charles Dickens!" Charles Dickens blinked, still in a state of shock.

John groaned. "Sherlock and Rose have vanished! They've gone after some woman or someone that caused this ghost! Come on!"

"What about-" The Doctor paused, pointing up at the ghost, in time for them to see it being soaked up into a gaslight. John was confused by the Doctor's pronouncement that it was made of gas, but he still hurried the Doctor and Charles Dickens out of the theatre and onto the street.

Meanwhile, Sherlock and Rose had rushed out of the theatre, following after the couple that had bundled off with an old woman, and wound up at the undertakers' coach. The girl was babbling about the tragedy, but Sherlock pressed past her, checking out-"She's dead!" Sherlock shouted, turning to the frightened girl, around Rose's age, and the older man. "And judging by the signs of rigor mortis and deterioration of the body, she died days ago and has already been embalmed!"

"What?" Rose asked, checking out the body for herself, a little bit nervous at touching a corpse, but she wanted to know as well.

"Nonsense!" The older man shouted, but reaching down—Sherlock darted forward, prepared to knock a gun out of the man's hand, but instead he got smacked hard with a cane, knocking him out.

"Sherlock!" Rose cried, but the older man had a chloroform-soaked handkerchief ready, knocking her out as well. The older man and the girl quickly bundled up both Rose and Sherlock into the hearse, though it was hard, and they barely had Sherlock inside before they heard someone else calling out his name from the direction of the theatre.

"Come on, Gwyneth," The older man shouted, clambering onto the hearse and flicking the horses' reins, urging them on to a gallop with Gwyneth barely able to bang shut the hearse door and get on before they departed.

"John! What is it?" The Doctor asked as he and Charles Dickens caught up with the shorter man outside of the theatre. John was reaching into his frock coat, a frightened look on his face—"Stop, John!" The Doctor grabbed his arm and squeezed him hard, wrenching his hold. "You better not have a gun under there."

John froze at the fierce, cold glare on the Doctor's face and shivered. "So what if I am armed? Sherlock, and probably Rose as well, are in danger, if not—I just saw a woman bundling Sherlock into the back of an undertaker's coach! There!" John nodded towards the coach barreling down the street ahead.

"That is still no excuse. We never use guns, especially with innocent lives involved! With any life-form involved! We just don't. And you better learn that lesson well, or so help me, I will dump you off on the loneliest, coldest, most desolate planet I can possibly find." The Doctor said, letting go of John.

"All right, I will remember that." John muttered, letting go of his gun. "But they're still getting away."

"That's all right, we'll catch up with them." The Doctor said, running off to grab a coach with John and Charles Dickens just behind.

However, it turned out to be Dickens' coach, so the Doctor grabbed the author and pulled him inside while John had to grab hold of the coach at the rear, hanging on the outside like an old-fashioned footman as they set off after the hearse. The coach driver shouted at John and the Doctor, while the Doctor babbled at the author like a squealing fan, convincing Dickens enough to let John and the Doctor stay on board.

John sighed, relieved that they didn't have to worry about being thrown off a moving coach, although he still feared what might have happened to Sherlock and Rose. They surely had to still be alive, right? He stared ahead, gripping the coach tightly in this icy weather, and grimaced at the sight of the hearse moving farther away from them. They had to catch up before it was too late. He would not let Sherlock Holmes die. He loved him more than anything now.

Sherlock groaned as he began to revive and found himself trapped in a tight, uncomfortable, warm space, unable to move with both an unconscious Rose and a dead woman stuck in here with him—a compartment big enough for one coffin, yet still a squeeze for three people piled in together. "Let me out! Let me out!" Sherlock started shouting, banging, and kicking, losing his mind for a moment as he began to panic. Not the perfect time to discover he was claustrophobic and had an innate fear of being buried alive.

But then he stopped, calming down or losing enough breath to realize this particular approach wouldn't work as whoever had trapped him and Rose in here—the undertaker and his assistant, he recalled—would not free him so readily. Plus, it felt like they were still moving, so little chance of getting out right now, and if they did, he and Rose would be falling out of a moving coach in the middle of what was surely a busy street—bad idea if there were horses and another coach right behind them, they would be trampled.

So Sherlock tried to slow his breathing to conserve oxygen for himself and Rose, mostly through a meditation process. He did not want to lose consciousness entirely, as he might go to sleep forever, but he just let himself go deep enough inside himself so that he did not have to breathe as often as he normally did. And he thought of John in that moment, hoping that he might see his doctor soon. He would be brave for John's sake.

After a while, the hearse stopped and Sherlock stiffened slightly, aware enough of what was going on that he was prepared to fight back when the hearse door opened and someone came to pull him out. But Sherlock had forgotten about the chloroform-soaked handkerchief; he passed out again before he had the chance to swipe at the undertaker or his assistant. Sherlock and Rose were taken into the funeral parlor and laid out upon the table.

As soon as Charles Dickens' coach arrived at the funeral parlor, John jumped off and dashed at the door—finding it locked, he pounded and shouted at it, wishing he had learned enough about lock-picking from Sherlock to get inside immediately, or that he could use his gun to shoot off the handle. The Doctor sighed as he and Charles Dickens approached, aware of how upset John was at losing Sherlock and worried about the man's emotional state, if he could be a liability to himself and anyone around him, especially with that gun he was carrying.

Why wasn't the Doctor aware of the gun that John was carrying with him, and had to have been carrying with him ever since he stepped onto the TARDIS a day or so ago, because he couldn't have gotten it since then? Must be because the Doctor had gotten used to the presence of guns back in—he inhaled sharply and shook his head, yet he still could see it, the war, and the guns he used to carry with him when he wasn't the Doctor anymore.

But he was the Doctor now, or at least that's what he told himself when he swore he would never, ever wield another weapon again after…he closed his eyes, not wanting to picture it again, but he could: the button, he would always see that button forever. And he would always press it forever.

But John was him now, the gun in John's hands, the army doctor who had seen another war and been deeply, physically, and mentally scarred by it. Though the Doctor would never speak of it, never ask John any questions about it, he understood part of what John had been through more than words could ever say. So they hardly ever spoke to each other, about important stuff at least, and the Doctor wasn't aware of the gun in John's hands. Yet maybe he was, in some small part of himself, and kept watch over John to make sure that he wouldn't ever wield it again.

That's what the Doctor told himself, yet here he was with an angry, upset, armed doctor who would tear down heaven and earth to save the man he loved and the Doctor had hardly done anything so far to stop him, apart from making him let go of the gun for a moment. The mind boggled, railed, and rallied against the thought, yet it was true, the Doctor knew that. And part of him wouldn't want to stop John from using the gun anymore—he wouldn't care, or maybe he would care too much to try.

"Let me in! Sherlock!" John cried, and when the front door was finally opened by a frightened girl around Rose's age, John pushed past her without a care. She babbled about the funeral parlor being closed and the Doctor and Charles Dickens questioned her, oddly enough about the gas at one point, as John rushed through the funeral parlor rooms, still shouting for Sherlock in his frantic search as the undertaker tried to stop him several times, and got a punch in his nose for his trouble. At least John didn't whip out his gun as the Doctor had feared.

Meanwhile, Rose was roused with all of the shouting, though she was still too groggy from the chloroform to immediately respond as she noticed Sherlock lying almost as still as death next to her. She quickly checked, but breathed a sigh of relief to see that he was still breathing and alive, only unconscious. However, there was an unadorned, freshly built wooden coffin next to them in the corner, and as she watched, a whiff of blue smoke emanated from the gaslight above and whirled down into the corpse of the young man lying dead in the coffin, who began to rose.

Rose shrieked and grabbed Sherlock, dragging him off the table and away from the corpse getting out of his coffin with the old woman rising out of her coffin as well. She pounded on the door, shouting, "Doctor! John! Help!" She grabbed a vase of lilies at one point, throwing it at the corpses, but that didn't stop them at all, while Sherlock lied helpless beside her.

John, the Doctor, and Charles Dickens rushed off at the sound of Rose's call with John and the Doctor kicking in the door together. John gaped at the sight of the unconscious Sherlock, vulnerable to attack from zombies, and dragged him out of the room, checking him out and trying to revive him. "What did you do?" John questioned the undertaker and his assistant. "Drugged him and knocked him out?"

"It was what we had to do!" The undertaker cried. "He was already awake when we got him out of the hearse!"

"He was awake and aware-" John was horrified by that idea, it must have been a nightmare for Sherlock, and glared at the undertaker. "Just be glad that he is still alive."

Meanwhile, the Doctor confronted the walking dead, who had stopped at the sight of him and spoke in unearthly voices to him—Sherlock gasped as he awoke, roused by the unearthly shrieks as the 'spirits' left their bodies. "John?" Sherlock managed to say, aware of whom was attending him. "You came?"

"Of course I bloody well came, you sick-" John inhaled sharply and kissed Sherlock, hugging him tightly as Sherlock weakly responded. The undertaker and his assistant stared at them in horror, even more so than when they had faced the ghouls, but they were aware of the glares that the Doctor and Rose shot their way, just challenging them to speak out and see what happened. Even Charles Dickens managed a glare at the undertaker, though he was curious about Sherlock and John as well.

"Anyone want some tea?" The assistant asked, trying to act as if everything was perfectly normal, and hurried off to go make some.

The undertaker invited them to come sit in his private parlor, where Rose and John lashed out at him while the Doctor and Charles Dickens silently watched, observing and considering everything, though the Doctor was smiling at Rose. Meanwhile, Sherlock recovered from his experience, meditated on his thoughts, and reflected upon what he had just survived as he watched the assistant come in with tea. He noticed the fear, despair, anxiety and guilt in her eyes. She had gone through a harrowing experience and seemed most deeply affected by all of the ghosts, perhaps more sensitive than the undertaker was and suffering most of all.

He thanked her for the tea, smiling as he tried to be kind for once when John insisted that he should consider the feelings of others more often, but she hurried off away from him, more frightened than she was before. Sherlock shrugged, slightly disappointed in the failure of his experiment, but not offended when she was obviously in a poor state of mind anyway. Charles Dickens grabbed a cup and distractedly slurped.

"Who are you again?" Sherlock asked the man sitting across from him, and when he got his reply, he shrugged and said, "Never heard of you," sipping his tea and already feeling bored.

"Never heard of-" Charles Dickens sputtered and gaped at Sherlock, causing enough of a stir that even the Doctor and Rose noticed.

They were shocked and slightly outraged when they heard what was going on. "You've never heard of Charles Dickens, one of the greatest writers of British literature in the 19th century?" The Doctor asked.

"What? Why is that so important?" Sherlock shrugged. "I don't know of him, but I can always look him up if I had to, so why does that matter?"

John sighed and said, "Sherlock has this thing where if he doesn't consider something important or relevant to his cases or life, he deletes it from his mind palace." The Doctor and Rose boggled at Sherlock, who rolled his eyes at this uproar. Charles Dickens openly stared at Sherlock as well, finding him curious and fascinating at the same time.

"Mind palace?" Rose laughed. "Your brain is a mind palace? What have you got in that?"

"Everything that is important to me, so can we please stop discussing this and get back to the business at hand?" Sherlock frowned. "I would like to know more about these so-called ghosts, if that is what they really are, which I imagine is not the case." The Doctor slowly nodded.

"I agree with you there," Charles Dickens nodded, "I doubt these ghosts as well. An amateurish ploy, no doubt, to fool those superstitious enough to believe the dead can be brought back to life."

"I disagree there." Sherlock said, glancing at Dickens. "They are real, and they do revive corpses, but they are not ghosts or spirits of the departed. They are creatures, no, beings from another world."

The Doctor smiled. "Give the man a medal!" He said as Rose, John, and everyone else gaped at Sherlock.

"Are you serious?" Charles Dickens asked.

"I am." Sherlock said, nodding.

"Good God, man." Charles Dickens said, but the Doctor told Charles Dickens to pipe down, causing Sherlock and John to laugh.

The Doctor and the undertaker explained everything as Charles Dickens stormed away, leaving the room. Sherlock noticed a glance exchanged between the undertaker and his assistant with the talk of feeling the presence of the spirits; yes, perhaps she was sensitive to the presence of these ghosts or whatever they were, maybe well enough to communicate with them? That would be something that had to be explored.


	9. Revive the Dead

John himself felt the whole situation was surreal: if someone had told him a week ago that he would be traveling through time and space with an alien, meeting Charles Dickens, meeting 'the last human' (who was a trampoline skin), nearly getting killed by plastic men, almost getting burned up along with the Earth, and then saving and kissing Sherlock Holmes…he would have laughed in that person's face and then slugged that person to avoid such an obvious lunatic. The Sherlock Holmes part might have given him pause, but he would have still considered it to be too outlandish to come true.

But here he was in a nineteenth-century funeral parlor with Charles Dickens just walking out the door in a snit and having a cup of tea while discussing ghost-like aliens possessing and zombifying dead bodies with his new boyfriend and the undertaker who had attacked them. It was almost impossible to believe, except that he was living it and, though properly scared and furious at times, he was excited by it all, especially the Sherlock Holmes part. He looked across at the consulting detective, entranced and intrigued by the discussion, and loved him so very deeply, relieved that they were both alive right now.

If things were different, if they were alone and not in such a dangerous, yet politely reserved state…he might reconsider his former protestation about it being too soon for them to copulate in nineteenth-century terms. But for now, he would keep that to himself. Meanwhile, Sherlock briefly noticed John's attention to himself, but decided to overlook it for the moment as he refused to get too roped up in such mutual attraction when he still had to attend to this case, although as soon as it was over, he would attend to John as well and he looked forward to that.

"I better go check on Charles." The Doctor said, wandering off after Charles Dickens, which neither Rose nor John could get used to.

Sherlock managed to get up and set off after him, which worried John for a minute as he didn't want to let Sherlock out of his sight after that near-death scare, although perhaps Sherlock would be fine enough with the Doctor. The undertaker ordered Gwyneth to wash up and roped John into a discussion of his business, which infuriated John, especially when he couldn't stand the man. Rose went off after Gwyneth.

Sherlock and the Doctor found Charles poking about the dead bodies, 'checking for strings' as the Doctor said to find out if there was another kind of secret, ploy, or explanation beyond what the Doctor and Sherlock had supplied for the events of this evening. As the Doctor attentively listened, and Sherlock rolled his eyes in exasperation, Charles prattled on about illusions and the real world being something else, or so he had believed, until this evening had broken down and blurred his vision until he couldn't think straight and worried if his life had any meaning or value.

"Yes, the real world is an illusion. Society's perception is warped and stained by misdirection, illusion, trickery and wrong-headed beliefs, but what of it?" Sherlock said, causing the Doctor to frown at him for being inappropriate and inconsiderate as Charles Dickens stared at him in shock and horror. "Life has no real value beyond what we make of it and I say we should make a hell of it. Take as much of an advantage as we can out of life and do whatever needs to be done to live and not be so bored all of the time. You cannot make life worth living unless you do something about it to make it worthwhile."

Charles Dickens gaped at him and murmured, "Perhaps you are right about that."

"Nice job, Sherlock." The Doctor managed to say.

"Thank you, I think." Sherlock muttered, turning and walking away to rejoin the others. "Anything to shut him up." The Doctor and Charles Dickens followed after him.

John, tired of listening to the undertaker, managed to excuse himself and went to check on Rose and the other girl, Gwyneth, finding them laughing over school and boys. John eavesdropped on them until they reached a quiet point, talking about Gwyneth's parents being up in paradise and then Gwyneth mentioned Rose's dad. John's eyes widened and he was startled slightly to hear footsteps behind him and a hand on his shoulder.

"Have I missed anything?" Sherlock asked, intrigued.

"They're just talking…" John muttered, but both of them silently watched as Gwyneth peered into Rose's eyes and saw so much of their 21st century, speaking of 'darkness' and the 'big bad wolf' as well, that it seemed like more than mere coincidence. The two fellows were so wrapped up in what she was saying, that they didn't notice the Doctor joining them as well.

As Gwyneth stumbled backwards, away from Rose, she turned to Sherlock, John, and the Doctor and gasped at them in horror as well. "The dead bodies you three have seen and are yet to see." Gwyneth whispered. "The wars you three have been through, on and off battlefields, and the wars you are yet to see. Such terrible violence, anger, and sorrow all throughout the stars and beyond and the smiling men with hyena grins who will plague you three, oh, my stars!" She hid her face in her hands, crying.

"Tell me more." Sherlock said, striding forward to grasp the girl by the shoulders when no one else would make a move. "Tell me more of what you see."

"Sherlock, please leave her alone." Rose and John both said, distraught, though the Doctor remained silent.

"How far you will fall, how lost you will be, you and the Doctor especially." Gwyneth said, looking up into Sherlock's eyes. "Will you ever return home again or will there be a home to return to? In love you three are, but will that love last forever? I can't see anymore."

Sherlock grimaced and let go of the girl, not wanting to hear anymore either, as John shook his head, refusing to believe while the Doctor stared at Gwyneth, aghast. Rose lowered her head before the Doctor spoke again, talking about Gwyneth's second sight getting stronger, part of the rift's influence—Sherlock's eyes widened. "She can really see into the future?" He asked.

The Doctor nodded. "The future, the past, the present, the might-have-beens and never-weres, she can hear and see glimpses of other worlds and times."

"Oh god, no," John said, trying to deny…he didn't want to believe that his love might fail before it had a chance to take-off, yet here he was being presented with that possibility. It was just what he had feared from the start.

"We can make this work, John." Sherlock managed to say, though he feared the same. Rose and the Doctor refused to look at each other at this point, not wanting to acknowledge the possibility either, especially when they weren't in love yet, though it was there in the back of their minds, that possibility and doubt over their own hearts and feelings.

The Doctor said they would be holding a séance with John grimacing and saying, "What, we're going to be calling upon the ghost-like aliens to come and—oh. That's exactly what we are doing, aren't we?" The Doctor nodded.

"Oh, goody." Sherlock said, smiling. "I've always wanted to experience a true séance."

They went back into the drawing room and sat round a table, with even Mr. Sneed and Charles Dickens joining hands, though it was rather crowded and Dickens muttered at the sheer folly of it all until the ghost-like aliens started to appear and the Doctor urged Gwyneth to establish a connection. And the Gelth came, speaking to them about the Time War and being the last of their kind.

"Just like the Doctor." Sherlock muttered, suspicious.

"What is this?" John asked, glancing around at the Doctor, Rose, and Sherlock with their grim faces, but he wasn't getting an explanation out of any one of them as the Gelth continued on, asking for dead bodies to possess. Rose protested, but the Doctor overruled her.

"Would this be good for my business?" The undertaker asked.

"Is it a temporary solution?" John asked the Gelth and the Doctor. "I mean, the dead bodies are decomposing, surely they can't live like that forever."

"Perhaps," The Doctor said, nodding as the Gelth soon vanished and Gwyneth fainted, exhausted from channeling the Gelth with Rose, John, and the others worrying and checking after her, though Sherlock remained at a slight remove, considering the situation.

"Isn't this dangerous for Gwyneth?" John asked the Doctor soon after the girl revived. "Aren't we using her just as much as-"

"I'm not being used or taken advantage of if that's what you think. I am helping them out of goodness and mercy, like any decent person would." Gwyneth muttered, glancing at John. "They need me when they are so helpless. How can I refuse them?"

"Of course we can't refuse them," Mr. Sneed said, nodding. "Especially if they are willing to pay for the privilege." The others sighed in exasperation at Mr. Sneed's greed.

"Yeah, listen to her." The Doctor said, nodding. "She wants to help them and I think we should, just to give them a fair chance at life. It might not be the perfect solution, but it's probably temporary until we can find another for them."

"All of this trouble just to find out what they are doing here and what's it all for and we haven't really gotten to the bottom of it." Sherlock muttered, causing the others to glance at him. "It seems very convenient to me that they are survivors of the Time War and the last of their kind, just like the Doctor, and-"

"Hold on a second here!" John cried, standing up. "What is this? Would someone please explain to me what this is all about?"

"I fought in the Time War, me and the rest of the Time Lords against our greatest enemy," The Doctor said, standing up to face John. "Millions of worlds, life-forms, and civilizations were affected, a lot of them collapsed and died, and that happened to me. My planet is gone, my people are dead, and I am the last surviving Time Lord."

"Oh. Oh my god." John gaped at the Doctor. "I didn't know, I'm sorry. I am…the last one here to know, aren't I?" He asked, looking at Sherlock and Rose in particular.

"I didn't know." Charles Dickens said, slightly drunk.

"And you believe it's your fault, don't you, that the Gelth are like this?" Sherlock asked the Doctor.

"Yes." The Doctor said.

"But they might be taking advantage of you there if they know who you are and what you have experienced by going through the rift. Do we know that they are telling the truth? Have you heard of the Gelth before? I don't believe you have." Sherlock said.

"I'm willing to risk it to help someone, anyone." The Doctor said.

"This is hopeless." Sherlock muttered as Rose and the Doctor also got into an argument before Gwyneth ended the discussion, insisting that they had to help. So they trooped down into the morgue as Sherlock grimaced, glancing around. "Molly would have had a fit if she had seen the state of this place."

"Who?" Rose asked.

"Dr. Molly Hooper, she helps Sherlock out at St. Barts' morgue." John said as Rose nodded and tried to discuss the problem with the Doctor, but things quickly got out of control. Gwyneth stepped into the archway before the Gelth made any promises not to hurt her, and though the Doctor tried to negotiate with the Gelth and insist that this was a temporary solution, the Gelth rushed out of Gwyneth in a furious storm.

"A few billion in force?" Sherlock shouted over the roar. "This doesn't look much like a temporary solution, this looks more like an invasion force!"

"All right, fine, I made a mistake, you happy?" The Doctor shouted back at him. "I just wanted—never mind." He wanted to make up for what he had done, even though it was impossible now, he realized, to stop himself from pushing that button.

Mr. Sneed tried to stop Gwyneth, but he got killed, and Charles Dickens ran out of the room when he was close by the door and ignored by the Gelth. "Coward!" Sherlock shouted out at him.

"It's pointless, Sherlock, let him go." John muttered, seeing the zombies trooping towards them and they retreated towards a gated alcove, possibly a kiln for cremation. "He probably won't survive for long either. What an appropriate place for us to be in."

"I'm sorry, John, I never imagined this would happen." Sherlock said, glaring at the dead people groping for them. "I'm just so angry at the unfairness of it all that this had to happen. It shouldn't be true."

"It's not your fault or anyone's, really. Who could have believed this would happen?" John said, shaking his head when he didn't want Sherlock blaming the Doctor either. "It's all right, I guess. At least we're together at the end, and that counts for something."

"John…" Sherlock said, turning to embrace him hard, feeling like he wanted to weep, yet couldn't. The Doctor and Rose faced death together as well when suddenly, Charles Dickens rushed back into the room, shouting about the gas. "Gas? Of course!" Sherlock shouted, laughing to himself, delirious. "How could we be so stupid?"

"Like this?" The Doctor said, pulling on the gas switch for the cremation kiln they were standing in, and suddenly, just like Charles Dickens said, the Gelth were sucked up into the air, out of the bodies. They rushed out of the kiln, Rose, Sherlock, and John in particular coughing up a storm when they had been exposed to a ton of gas, and the Doctor went up to Gwyneth, pleading for her to send them back, but Sherlock frowned as he studied her.

"Dead. She's dead." Sherlock managed to say, feeling like he might pass out, but John helped him up as the Doctor urged them to go. The four humans fled through the house, coughing and choking, out into the relatively fresh, open air, breathing in heavy gulps of nineteenth-century Cardiff.

"Free. We're free!" John laughed, almost collapsing onto the snow-covered ground, which wasn't exactly crisp and clean, with Sherlock on top of him.

Sherlock shook his head and rolled off of him, sighing. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah, you?" John said and Sherlock responded by kissing him forcefully, the couple embracing as Rose and Charles Dickens recovered off to the side.

"Sex maniacs." Charles Dickens said with a laugh.

"Merry Christmas to you, too, humbug." Sherlock said as the Doctor rushed out of the house, which exploded behind him, showering them with debris and heating them up a bit.

"Oh my god!" John gasped as they shielded themselves from the force of the explosion, "Gwyneth." He said, realizing what was happening. The Doctor explained the situation, astonishing Rose and John in particular, though Sherlock grimaced to himself as he had realized it before.

"She was dead, yet there had to be something left in her subconscious." Sherlock muttered. "An echo if you would of what she had once been." It was the best attempt at a rational explanation that he could possibly manage. They set off soon after, back to the TARDIS, with Charles Dickens following after them, blabbering about his ideas and notions.

"Thank you, Sherlock Holmes, for helping me to see that." Charles Dickens said, shocking John in particular.

"You're quite welcome. Good-bye." Sherlock said, managing a smile as he entered the TARDIS with John bidding farewell as well.

"What did you say to him?" John asked Sherlock, following him and leaving the Doctor and Rose to say good-bye to Charles.

"Oh, nothing much, but it was important to him." Sherlock said as the pair of them watched the scene on the console monitor. "It was—I haven't read much classical literature, as some people call it, and I remember even less, but there is a line that sticks with me from one piece in particular, the beginning of Paradise Lost."

"Really? What is it?" John asked, intrigued.

"The fallen angel Lucifer turns to a friend of his after they reach Hell and basically says, the mind can make a heaven of hell or a hell of heaven. It's all in the mind, how we perceive and respond to things." Sherlock said, turning to John. "And I told Charles Dickens to embrace his life, make something worthwhile out of it. Make a hell of it." He grinned and John kissed him again, right there on the console.

"Oi, you two! Enough!" The Doctor shouted as he and Rose entered and the two fellows parted.

"Sorry." John said, blushing as Sherlock laughed. Rose asked the Doctor about Charles Dickens and the Doctor explained that he would die next year, which sort of dampened the mood a bit for everyone, reminding them of death and destruction once more. The Doctor gave Charles Dickens one last thrill, seeing the TARDIS dematerialize, and then explained that at least they got to see the man live again.

"That is what you do, is it not, Doctor?" Sherlock asked, facing the Time Lord. "You bring the dead back to life. You revive them when you see them living, breathing, loving, laughing, working and scheming again. Everywhere you go throughout time and space, all of the places you've seen and all of the people you've met, for one brief, shining moment you bring the dead back to life and they live again for you to see, witness, and visit."

"Sherlock, please, let's not discuss this." John muttered, concerned about the Doctor's reaction.

"I suppose you're right about that." The Doctor said, sighing. "But sometimes the dead stay dead or they die all over again right before your eyes. Sometimes it's not worth the trouble or bother, but I keep living, they keep dying, and I still visit them. Pop in to say hello and good-bye." He grimly smiled at his dark joke.

"It's still magnificent in some ways." Sherlock said, thoughtful. "I used to imagine what it would be like to go back in time and see a murder happen. Witness the victim and the murderer interacting with each other and how events played out or unfolded for the murderer and the victim to be in that position-"

"You're way too morbid." The Doctor said, shaking his head.

"Sometimes you have to be to face the level of crime and bloodshed I've seen. Though it is but a fraction of what you've seen, right, Doctor?" Sherlock asked.

"Leave me alone." The Doctor muttered.

"Maybe we are too wrapped up in melodrama." John suddenly said to himself, trying to levy the mood. "Whatever happened to being camp?"

"That went out the window ages ago." Sherlock shrugged. "We can only be camp when we're not in so much danger all of the time and there is bound to be more soon." He remembered what Gwyneth had told them, especially himself, John, and the Doctor in particular. He didn't want to face that.

"But that's no excuse. We can still be camp and enjoy ourselves sometimes when we're not in deadly danger, right?" John asked. "It doesn't have to deathly morbid all of the time."

"That's exactly right, Sherlock and John." The Doctor said, nodding. "Listen to the man. That's what I try to do, you know. I try to smile and laugh and have a good time even when things are getting dangerous and agitated. I try to enjoy myself, put on a brave face, a great big smile and love every minute of it even though my whole planet and all of its people, except for me, have been wiped out of the universe!" The Doctor gasped and inhaled as everyone stared at him in horror. "I try to smile and be happy, no matter how hard it is."

"I'm sorry." John said, retreating.

"Let's go back to London in the 21st century." The Doctor muttered, turning to the console. "Enjoy ourselves there."

"Doctor, I'm sorry about all of this, I really am." John said again, shaking his head, worried about the Doctor's grim mood and if he might kick them out of the TARDIS in a foul temper, traveling on again alone, endangering himself with a death wish. "I didn't know, no one told me…"

"It's not your fault, John, although we do have to fetch back Sherlock's laptop with all of those important files that you accidentally left behind in Mickey's car." The Doctor said, slightly more light-hearted.

"Oh. Oh." John said, slightly relieved as it sounded like this might be a stop-over, not a full stop. "Yes, let's get that back and then carry on, shall we?"

"And I can get some of my stuff and a passport, tell my mom that I'll be traveling…" Rose said.

"And I can apprise Mycroft of the situation and tell Lestrade and all of my clients that I shall be unavailable for the foreseeable future." Sherlock said, nodding. "Sounds good to me as well."

"Great, everybody's happy." The Doctor said, still grim and worried about the future as well. He could still see that button flashing…


	10. Returning Home

Like I've said before, I've made some canon changes to this story and some of the timelines/pacing of story lines may not exactly match up with the changes I've made. Please excuse any time bumps.

* * *

Still dressed in nineteenth century clothing, Rose, Sherlock, and John retreated to their rooms to change, and while Rose had a hell of a time of it, she managed. She stepped out of her room just as Sherlock did and they paused, staring at each other. Rose smiled and awkwardly approached, holding out her hand. "Thanks for coming after me, earlier. I never got the chance to say anything."

"Think nothing of it." Sherlock said, nodding and not shaking. "You and I were both after the same thing, finding out more about that woman and the ghost. We just got caught together."

"Right. We really haven't had a chance to talk, you and me leastways, since yesterday I suppose when you told me about the Doctor at my flat." Rose shook her head as she removed her hand. "I couldn't believe you then, but now…god, it's so amazing, everything he does. How long have you known about him?"

"To tell you the truth, I only found out about the Doctor a few hours before you did." Sherlock said. "I just received a bunch of files from my brother on him and researched him quite extensively, memorizing, analyzing, and digesting the information."

"Really? That's amazing, you sounded like such an expert." Rose said, blinking.

"I try my best and for the most part, I am an expert in many areas. I retain quite a lot of information in my mind palace."

"Right, that's a good one." Rose laughed. "So anyway, nice talking to you. Hope you and John are doing well." She turned to leave.

"Rose, there is one thing I wanted to ask you." Sherlock hesitated and finally he said, "I know why you wanted to travel with the Doctor. Gwyneth mentioned you had been thinking of your father a lot…I'm assuming he's dead?"

Rose halted in her steps and gaped at Sherlock. "How did you—yeah, he's dead and I had been thinking…time travel, you know? What's the point of it if you can't go see someone like Charles Dickens who is long since gone? What's the difference if it is my own father?"

"Careful." Sherlock cautioned. "I don't know much about time travel, but I'm assuming there are rules or limitations to it."

"The Doctor hasn't exactly been careful thus far, has he?" Rose asked. "We've been mucking about a bit in the past and future, and times change, according to the Doctor. He was all ready to let the Gelth invade those bodies."

"That was different. It didn't happen, and if it had…well, maybe it wouldn't have had too much of an effect." Sherlock frowned to himself.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about!" Rose said. "My father is just the same."

"But if time changes too much, then how can the universe remain stable?" Sherlock said. "Your father is the reason you decided to time travel to…save or see him again, so if something does happen to change that, then it wouldn't happen."

"The universe wouldn't explode if something happened with my father." Rose said.

"I'm just saying, think about what you are doing before you ask the Doctor to help you in this endeavor. You should consider the consequences." Sherlock said.

"All right, fine, I'll think about it. You won't tell him about my idea before I'm ready?" Rose asked.

"I won't say anything before you are ready." Sherlock said. He knew it wouldn't do any good for anyone when neither the Doctor nor Rose would be willing to listen.

"Thanks. Nice talking to you." Rose muttered as she turned and walked away from him towards the console room.

Sherlock watched her go as John exited his room. "Ah, they've got a good shower on here, you should try it." John said, wiping back his damp hair. "So, ready to go?" He asked Sherlock.

"Always." Sherlock smiled and clutched John's hand as they followed after Rose to rejoin the Doctor. They all soon exited the TARDIS, back on the Powell Estate, and exuberantly glanced around, the humans glad to be back in the 21st century for the moment as they reflected on all they had seen, felt, and experienced over the past couple of days. Sherlock grinned as he checked his cell reception, back to normal.

Before Rose left to head to her flat, she asked John, "Do you and Sherlock need any help finding Mickey's place?"

"No, I think I know where it is. I visited it with you before that Auton business blew up in our faces." John said, glancing around. He recited the directions to Mickey's flat and Rose nodded, confirming that he had gotten it right before she left.

"You do have a memory, good for you, John." Sherlock said, grinning as John playfully punched him in the arm. He was texting his brother and Lestrade to inform them that he would be gone for a short while.

"And just for that, I'm going to go get the laptop back by myself." John said, walking off in the direction of Mickey's flat. "You two have fun!"

"Got it." Sherlock said, not really paying attention to John at the moment as the Doctor chuckled, shook his head, and wandered off on his own.

Suddenly, Sherlock's phone was buzzing after he sent the texts. He frowned as he saw who was calling and answered, "What is it, Lestrade?"

"Gone for a short while? You've been gone for a bloody month already!" Lestrade shouted on the other end, deafening Sherlock. "Where in hell have you and John been? Did you two run off with that Rose Tyler girl as well? We've had a worried mother calling us-"

"What?" Sherlock gasped, shaking his head. "No, no, no, listen to me, Lestrade, I can explain, we can explain everything. Rose is back, we're here at the Powell Estate-"

"Don't move a solitary muscle! I'm coming over there." Lestrade hung up just as Sherlock received another call.

"Damn it." Sherlock muttered, seeing who it was, before he answered, "Hello, Mycroft."

"So nice to hear from you again, Sherlock." Mycroft said. "I was beginning to give up hope. Did the Doctor happen to inform you three that he brought you back home a little late?"

"No, he didn't, he thought he was bringing us back home a few hours after we left." Sherlock said, turning about. "Although I should not have supposed that he would be entirely reliable on that account. We've had some time travel problems already with arriving at the exact place and time."

"Time travel, what a marvelous thing that must be." Mycroft sighed. "You must tell me all about it."

"I intend to someday, but not right now." Sherlock fumed. "Lestrade is furious with me. He's coming down to the Powell Estate right now. I think we might be in trouble if kidnapping charges are being leveled against us. Rose Tyler is fine, by the way, she should be back home in her mother's arms by now."

"Excellent news, glad to hear of it, otherwise we would have had a serious mess on our hands. But now we shall have that trouble sorted out in no time at all." Mycroft said. "By the way, I did get your laptop back from that girl's nervous boyfriend, Mickey Smith. Excellent fellow, though, once he started to cooperate with us." Sherlock stiffened as he listened to his older brother. "You really should not have left the laptop behind. Could have caused us a world of problems, nearly did cause a fuss when Mickey blabbed too much about the Doctor to the police. Eventually he did back off on his accusations."

"I hope you didn't hurt him." Sherlock said.

"Not too much." Mycroft said. "He's probably recovered by now. Listen, I have to go and deal with your sordid mess as well as a few other problems. Be sure to call Mum and Dad before too long, they have been worried sick."

"Did you tell them where I was?" Sherlock asked.

"I mentioned some things, though not a whole lot. They did pester me about it." Mycroft was probably frowning. "I've got to go, good-bye."

"Good-bye." Sherlock muttered as the Doctor ran up to him, holding up a piece of paper with a 'Missing' advertisement on it for Rose. "I know! We've been gone for a whole month!" Sherlock shouted and sighed, exhausted.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-" The Doctor started to say.

"Is there any way we can come back again in the past before we went missing for a month?" Sherlock asked.

The Doctor shook his head. "It's been established, we've been gone for a month. We can't change that now, we're part of it."

"Time travel, of all the lousy rules-what's the point of it if you can't change these things?" Sherlock asked and then sighed again. "Fine then. We'll get on with it. Detective Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard is coming over to check that Rose is back and my brother Mycroft is going to erase the kidnapping charges leveled against me and John. He already got the laptop back from Mickey. Should we check in on Rose?"

The Doctor gaped at him and shrugged. "Might as well."

However, before they could, John and Mickey Smith suddenly rushed up towards them. "Is Rose back? Is she fine?" Mickey asked, striding up to the Doctor.

"Yeah, she is." The Doctor said and swerved to avoid a fist that Mickey swung at him with John and Sherlock trying to restrain the young man.

"You bloody well deserve worse than that! Leaving us here worrying about her, gone for a whole month with Inspector Lestrade, the police, and bloody Mycroft Holmes questioning me and Rose's mum. I get blamed for everything and arrested five times, not to mention being brought in to be interrogated by-" Mickey kept on ranting at the Doctor, staring at him in horror, until the young man calms down and shakes off Sherlock and John.

"I'm sorry." The Doctor said.

"Bloody well right." Mickey sighed. "Well, where is she, Rose? Is she up at her flat?" The others nod and Mickey said, "Might as well go up there and see how they're handling it. Have the police been called yet?"

"Inspector Lestrade is coming." Sherlock muttered.

"Terrific." Mickey said and they all tromp upstairs to meet a now furious Jackie Tyler, who thoroughly slaps Sherlock, John, and even the Doctor, ranting and raving at them.

Inspector Lestrade and several constables arrive to quell the domestic disturbance and question the participants involved. Rose insists that she was not kidnapped, that she ran away from home and traveled with the other fellows. Inspector Lestrade and the constables are skeptical when they doubt that anyone would willingly travel with Sherlock Holmes. But they accept it for the most part, especially when Mycroft Holmes calls Lestrade to clear up the matter in his own way.

"Who is it? It's that woman, isn't it, or her employer? The one who offered me compensation? Fat chance!" Jackie cried, causing Rose and Mickey to stare at her in shock.

"Mum, this isn't like you." Rose said.

"What do you expect? My own daughter, my only child, goes missing and someone offers to pay me off cheap to keep me quiet? Do you think I would be willing to accept that?" Jackie asked. The others don't say anything, though Rose feels somewhat gratified in an odd, unsatisfactory sort of way.

"Listen, Ms. Tyler, suffice it to say that there is no evidence or case to be built up against Sherlock Holmes, Dr. John Watson, or this…bloke at the moment." Inspector Lestrade said, staring at the Doctor in some perplexity and curiosity as to who he was, but apparently he was mixed up in some of Mycroft's important, though mysterious, government business. "Rose is well, she doesn't seem to have been coerced, forced, or kidnapped, and apparently this is a legitimate business she was involved in, so there's nothing to be done. The others are free to go."

"Right, thank you, but don't sound so disappointed. Do you want me to be guilty of something?" Sherlock asks Lestrade.

"One of these days, Sherlock, you and your friends are probably going to get into big trouble that neither me nor your brother can get you out of. I'm ashamed to say I don't want to see that day." Lestrade said as John glanced back and forth between them, a bit worried.

"Hang on, Sherlock's brother—is he the one who tried to pay me off?" Jackie asked, agape. "That's not right or fair!"

"I know, I know, but that's the way things are." Lestrade muttered. "And you would have a hard time trying to sue him."

"Can I at least get an apology of some sort?" Mickey asked and Lestrade recited the standard procedure for filing a complaint against Scotland Yard and the police until Mickey waved him off.

"I'm certainly going to file a complaint." Jackie said.

As Rose and her mum retreat to the kitchen to hug, Sherlock, John, and the Doctor, with Mickey trailing behind, snuck out of the flat, glad to be free from its constrictive environment. "I need some air." Sherlock muttered.

"What about the roof, since we can't leave yet?" The Doctor asked.

"What about Mrs. Hudson and our flat?" John asked Sherlock.

"Oh, you're right about that." Sherlock said, turning to the Doctor and Mickey. "John and I are going back to our flat, 221B Baker Street, to settle up with our landlady and see how things are going there. Do any of you want to come?"

"I've got to wait for Rose at least." Both Mickey and the Doctor said, staring at each other.

"Right." Sherlock said, nodding as he recognized the growing conundrum here. "See you later." Sherlock raced off down the stairs, not wanting to get involved in that mess, and John said good-bye as well.

"Um…you won't be leaving without us, right?" John asked the Doctor.

"Course not. And just so you know, here-" The Doctor reached in his pocket and pulled out two keys. "The TARDIS had three of them, ready and waiting lying on the console, when we got back from nineteenth century Cardiff and Charles Dickens."

"Charles—bloody hell, what have you lot been up to?" Mickey asked, shaking his head.

"Nothing much, just gate-crashing an end of the world party and met Charles Dickens and some alien ghosts." The Doctor grinned at a flabbergasted Mickey before he told John, "Those keys let you and Sherlock into the TARDIS at any time and place. Not many can access it, you know, so guard them well."

"Thanks. Thank you very much." John said, gaping as he accepted the two keys, one each for himself and Sherlock, and felt a warm glow. "I should probably thank the TARDIS as well." He laughed.

"Might not be such a bad idea." The Doctor added before John suddenly hugged him, thanked him again, and ran off after Sherlock, leaving the Doctor flabbergasted now. How long had it been, the Doctor wondered, since anyone had hugged him? Must have been ages by his reckoning, since…don't even think about it.

"Bloody hell." Mickey said, contemplative as he walked away. "Alien ghosts." The Doctor shook his head and went upstairs to the roof, hoping that Rose would follow him.

After Sherlock received his TARDIS key, which he gleefully examined and stowed safely away in a hidden pocket, John and Sherlock caught a cab. "It's still not enough, though. I want my own sonic screwdriver." Sherlock suddenly said as they got into the cab.

"What? Well, you're certainly not getting one." John said before he gave the driver the address, got his credit card swiped for the fare, and they left.

"Why not? Why can't he or the TARDIS make me one? It should be simple enough." Sherlock asked.

"I doubt it." John muttered.

"The TARDIS made us those keys." Sherlock said. "What's the difference? The TARDIS can probably create or produce anything. I wouldn't be surprised on that account. It certainly does expand and create new entire rooms for guests."

"Sherlock Holmes, you're not getting it. I'm fairly certain that only the Doctor gets a sonic screwdriver. We get TARDIS keys." John said, exasperated. "We're probably lucky to even have that sonic penlight bug-zapper thing he gave me and I doubt I'll get to keep that thing for long. I'm certainly not going to be able to keep my gun."

"What? What happened? Did you use it or show it to the Doctor?" Sherlock asked.

"I nearly did use it when Mr. Sneed ran off with you and Rose." John said, leaning against Sherlock. "I was going to try shooting the bastard and his coach when the Doctor stopped me." He glanced up at Sherlock. "I was afraid of losing you. I didn't want that to happen. So yes, I lost my head there and the Doctor got mad at me, threatened to desert me on some cold, inhospitable planet if I tried again."

Sherlock, who had wrapped his arms around the doctor to try comforting him and reassure him that he was still here, froze and frowned at the Doctor's threat. "That's not right at all." He said. "How dare he do that to you?"

John shrugged. "What can you do? I suppose the Doctor is right in some regard. We shouldn't be armed and threaten innocent lives, especially when we don't know the consequences of our actions and are so emotionally and mentally unstable at the time. Worried about others, in my instance."

"He should have understood your dilemma, and the fear you were experiencing." Sherlock said. "The Doctor could have done a better job of handling the situation without threatening you like that."

"The Doctor did understand. He felt that way once, I'm sure." John said. "The Doctor is recovering from that Time War, don't forget, and the death of his planet. I didn't know about it at the time, but now I understand why he has such a hang-up about being armed and using guns. I would probably feel the same way if so much terrible tragedy had affected me. My whole planet, everyone I ever knew and loved, even those I didn't know—destroyed, killed in a terrible war. I couldn't live with that, stand the pain. I'm surprised he did. It could have gone worse between me and him. He could have been a lot worse."

"You're right." Sherlock sighed, shaking his head. "It could have been worse, he could have been worse. I don't understand why he hasn't fallen apart already. He's almost on the verge, I'm sure, right on the edges of that pain and insanity. Why and how he hasn't fallen over the brink already, I don't know."

"Maybe because he has hope that something good would come along?" John asked. "Like Rose or whoever?"

"You may be right about that." Sherlock said, snuggling against the doctor. He certainly had found something good here, and he wasn't going to let go of John either.

As they arrived at 221 Baker Street and got out of the cab, they heard a loud honking noise echoing throughout the neighborhood and beyond and looked up to see a large shadow coming from the direction of the Powell Estate in the distance. John's eyes widened. "Is that a spaceship?"

"Bloody hell." Sherlock laughed as the spaceship passed over Tower Bridge in the distance, swerved over Central London past St. Paul's, turning round over Parliament and then…"Oh, no way." He said as the spaceship's wing crashed and ripped its way through 'Big Ben' clock tower. "Mycroft is going to have a really bad day today." He said, grinning and shaking his head as it crash-landed in the Thames.

"What are we going to do?" John asked. "We can't get hold of the Doctor right now. He's all the way across the river. We really should have gotten Rose's mobile number for emergencies such as this one."

"No worries. If Mycroft is dealing with an alien crash-landing in the Thames…" Sherlock's mobile rang. "Then he will deal with it through us." He answered, "Hello, dearest brother Mycroft."

"Where is he?" Mycroft asked, coldly furious, fuming and half-panicked. "Where is that trouble-making, meddling Doctor? This is all his fault, I know."

"Not everything is related to him, though he does tend to show up when things go south." Sherlock said. "John and I are back at 221, but the Doctor stayed at the Powell Estate with Rose. You need to go fetch him and Rose as well, she is his better half. Can John and I come?"

"Fine. Just hurry up while I arrange transportation over here." Mycroft said. "With the gridlock and citywide shutdown, it's going to take a helicopter to fetch the Doctor now."

"Certainly will do." Sherlock said, hanging up. "Come on, John. Might as well take the laptop with us again and grab some of our stuff. Hopefully we won't lose it again. And Mrs. Hudson will certainly be glad to see us."

"She certainly wouldn't slap us like Ms. Tyler did." John remarked, earning a laugh as they entered 221 and surprised Mrs. Hudson.

She cried as she hugged them and they briefly explained the situation as best they could, astonishing her. They ran upstairs, grabbed their stuff, kissed and hugged Mrs. Hudson on their way out with protestations and offers of baked goods and tea being made. Finally they got away and hoofed their way over to Mycroft's London headquarters with a helicopter waiting for them on the roof.

Anthea waited for them just inside. "Your brother sends his regards. He's busy at the moment."

"Naturally." Sherlock said.

"A body's been found inside the spaceship, certainly non-terrestrial in origin." Anthea told Sherlock and John, astonishing them. "It's been taken to St. Barts morgue under UNIT supervision."

"Molly is going to be the first person to perform an alien autopsy on Earth." John said, gasping and shaking his head.

"Technically she is not the first, just the first public one." Anthea added.

"I could have told him that." Sherlock said, though he was a little disappointed not to be there when Molly performed the autopsy, certain that it would prove interesting and enlightening.

Meanwhile, Lestrade muttered, "Alien spaceship crash lands in the middle of London, and I'm stuck here on the bleeding wrong side of the river! Bloody Sherlock Holmes and Rose Tyler."

He called Donovan and tried to organize police response to the riots caused by the alien crisis. However, it wasn't the best way of managing things from his perspective, with little clue as to what sort of emergencies were taking place, how effective the response was, and the general atmosphere. He tried calling Mycroft several times to ask for help, but Mycroft was busy, and Lestrade only managed to get ahold of Anthea.

"I'm flying to the Powell Estate to pick up the Doctor and a Miss. Rose Tyler with Sherlock and John." Anthea said, astonishing the detective inspector. "If you want to be back in central London as soon as possible, this is the best chance you have to take."

"Bloody hell, I'll be there. Just wait for me!" Lestrade cried, hanging up and racing back to the Powell Estate, still muttering about Sherlock Holmes and Rose Tyler the entire way.

At the same time, or perhaps a little while before or after, Molly nervously stared at the soldiers posted along the corridor as she headed to the morgue and was confronted by General Asquith and his team once she was inside, blocking her view of the body lying on the slab, though she could see the doctor in scrubs behind them. "Who are you?" General Asquith asked.

"I'm Molly Hooper, the current specialist registrar on duty." She said, showing him her name tag and even her ID as the other doctor looked up in interest.

One of the soldiers examined her credentials and nodded as General Asquith said, "I'm sorry, Ms. Hooper, but Dr. Toshiko Sato will be taking over."

"Um, excuse me, I could use some assistance here." Dr. Sato suddenly said, startling the other soldiers. "Perhaps Ms. Hooper would be willing to help?"

"I would be more than happy to assist." Molly said.

"Yes, all right." General Asquith nodded as he and his soldiers left. "Carry on."

"Thank you very much, Dr. Sato." Molly said, heading over to scrub up.

"You're quite welcome." Tosh said, adjusting her ear piece.

"…Whoo, that's a bloody hell of a relief." Dr. Owen Harper said on the other end of the line in Cardiff, and Tosh could swear she heard him tipping back a bottle of whiskey for a drink. "Now, let Ms. Hooper take the lead from now on, all right?"

"All right." Tosh said in a low voice and then looked up as Molly approached.

"Now then, Dr. Sato, um…so what are we dealing with here?" Molly asked, staring down at the body on the slab with curiosity overwhelming her. To examine an alien life form-Sherlock really would get a kick out of this, if only he hadn't gone missing.

"A swine-like form," Dr. Sato said, revealing the body.

"That's it? That's the alien who crash-landed…it doesn't seem right." Molly said, shaking her head and looking up at Dr. Sato. "How can that be possible?"

"Believe me, alien life forms can be of all shapes and sizes and some of them do look similar to species that developed on our own planet. Some of them might have even evolved from life-forms that can be found on our planet." Tosh said, meeting Molly's gaze. "It's spectacular once you think about it."

"Right then, have you begun any incisions?" Molly asked.

"Not yet. I was going to do that after a physical examination and X-rays." Tosh said, "Just to get a better look at and understanding of its anatomy. The X-rays are over there, you can see them for yourself."

"Right." Molly said, heading over to the X-ray display to examine them herself, her head still reeling a bit. "It looks almost normal from what I remember of biology and dissection classes." Molly said, checking them again. "It's almost identical to pig anatomy, except for the head." She frowned to herself. "Dr. Sato, I don't know anything about alien biology, but does any of this look artificial to you?"

"What do you mean?" Tosh asked, coming over to check the head X-ray as Owen cursed on the other end of the line, having spilled some whiskey on himself. "Um…I mean, it doesn't look normal, it's just—different." She winced. "I don't really know." She admitted. "I haven't really examined a body before." Owen was groaning now.

"Dr.—Toshiko Sato, do you mean to say that you're not a real doctor?" Molly asked, gaping at her.

"I'm just covering for someone who couldn't make it. He's here." Tosh said, tapping her ear piece and showing it to Molly, "Advising me. And my name is Tosh, or at least that's what I prefer. I'm the resident technology expert with my branch. I've seen and even dealt with aliens and alien artifacts before, but not like this."

"Bloody hell, why do you have to blab everything?" Owen groaned on the other end of the line, not really paying attention.

"He?" Molly asked, staring at Tosh, who slowly nodded. "Ah, I've got you. I've felt the same about another bloke."

"What did she say?" Owen asked, perplexed.

"Nothing." Tosh said, taking out the ear piece and turning it off. "I'm sorry for all of this, really I am, but can you please help me?" She asked Molly. "I can't afford to let him down."

"All right, I suppose I will." Molly said, smiling in a sad way. She knew the feeling well.


End file.
